


The Silence That I Keep

by flinchflower, knittycat99, nubianamy



Series: The Donutverse [22]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Baseball, Collars, Crossdressing, Dancing and Singing, Dom/sub, Donutverse, Episode: s01e18 Laryngitis, Family Drama, Father-Son Relationship, HIV/AIDS, Haircuts, M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Slavery, Plug Training, Polyamory, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2892932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower, https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittycat99/pseuds/knittycat99, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Kurt expresses his identity through strategic crossdressing and choice of lyrics, Puck is purchased through a Cheerios fundraiser as Mercedes' slave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published as chapters 32-35 of The Fingers of Your Fire. 
> 
> Set just before, during and after episode 1.18 Laryngitis. This story follows Kiss Me Like A Lover and parallels There's an Awful Lot of Breathing Room.
> 
> You can listen to the 8track playlist for Fingers of Your Fire [here](http://8tracks.com/nubianamy/the-fingers-of-your-fire) (part of the enormous FoYF one is still [on YouTube here](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLc72s_nGT2yT62f9-u6XxCAAE_VjrOVen), although people keep deleting the videos I link to!). I will also include links to all songs throughout the story, for reference.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carole and Sarah talk about their ideal house. Shelby gets a surprise guest in the middle of the night. Kurt gets introspective about his situation. Emma dials the right number. Blaine gets an email from Finn. Mercedes and Puck volunteer for the Cheerios fundraiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really enjoying writing in Lima again. Puck is incredibly sweet in this chapter; I made a lot of awwww noises while writing it. Warnings for mild consensual slavery. Enjoy! -amy

Carole didn’t bother to try to stay quiet when she got back to Burt’s house.  For one thing, it was almost two in the morning.  All the boys had stumbled into bed the moment they’d arrived home from Tessera.  Finn had fallen so deeply asleep in the car that Carole thought she might have to step on his foot or pinch his ear or something to wake him up when they got home.  Walking him into the house half-asleep had been almost impossible, given how  _tall_  he was getting.  She was pretty sure he was already taller than Christopher had ever been.  

But she gave a little shriek of alarm when she came in through the garage to the basement and saw the movement on the green couch. Sarah’s tousled head popped up from between the blankets, and she blinked over the edge at Carole. The television was on, turned down very low.

“Why are you still awake, honey?” Carole sighed, coming forward to gather Sarah into a hug.  

Sarah rested placidly against her. “This is when I do my best thinking.”

“You need  _sleep,”_  she emphasized. “Trust me, I’ve worked as a nurse for almost fifteen years, and I’ve seen far too many people check into the hospital because they’ve neglected their sleep.”

“Or never learned how?” 

“It never occurred to me that sleeping would be something you have to  _learn.”_

Sarah shrugged. “It might be. Everything at school’s easy, but sleep is hard.”

Carole was going to have to talk with Burt about getting both Sarah  _and_  Noah an appointment with the sleep clinic at St. Rita’s. She set her purse down on the stairs and came back to the couch. She decided not to comment about the notebook on the coffee table, which Sarah quickly closed as Carole approached. Especially in a household with so many people, everyone deserved a little privacy.  

Sarah snuggled under the fleece blanket, leaning against Carole. “Was Adam sad to go home?”

“I think so. He was trying to be nice, mostly. He and Jacob flew right into New York City. He has a concert tomorrow.” She smoothed Sarah’s hair down behind her ears. “The song you wrote for him was so beautiful.”

She was tired enough that the compliment just made her smile. “He’s really good for Noah.”

“Do you think so?” Carole considered Finn’s responses to Adam throughout the weekend. “I’m on Finn’s side first, you know, so I might be a harder sell when it comes to competition.”

The look Sarah gave her was positively disdainful. “Adam’s not _competing_  with anybody.”

“No, I guess not,” Carole admitted.

“Did Tatenui apologize for being a jerk to you on Saturday at dinner?”

“He wasn’t a jerk, honey. He was… scared. But we talked, and we resolved it. Everything’s fine; you don’t have to worry.”

“I wasn’t.” She snuggled closer. “Not much.”

They sat in silence for a little longer. Carole realized the television was showing images of Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson yelling at each other. “Is that  _Much Ado About Nothing?”_

“Shakespeare,” Sarah murmured. “S’poetry.” She paused. “It was nice having everybody together at Tessera.”

Carole tried not to blurt out  _Burt asked me to move in._  It wasn’t only her decision. She was going to have to talk to Finn — gently. “Yeah, it was.”

“If you could have the perfect home, what would it look like?” She shrugged when Carole looked at her. “It’s a school project.”

“Well,” she said slowly, “it would be nice to have space for my crafts. I have a room at home, in the basement.” She knew already it wouldn’t be possible here, unless they put an addition on the house. She couldn’t justify having her own space for frivolous things when Burt was giving up his office for Puck and the baby. “I don’t know. I already bought all this new furniture… I think I would also like to get a new bed, though. Our mattress at Tessera was heavenly.”

“Mmm.” Sarah’s eyes were drooping. Carole brushed aside the curls on her neck, noticing what looked like a necklace, but when she looked more closely, it was a design on her skin. Three musical notes, joined by a triplet, with an accent and a fermata. She blinked. There were additional marks, little lines, almost like… whiskers? She wasn’t a musician, so it was hard to know for sure.  

“What about you?” Carole asked her softly. “What would you have in your perfect house?”

For a long moment, Sarah didn’t say anything, and Carole thought she might have gone to sleep. Then Sarah opened her eyes, looking up at the ceiling. Her voice was wistful, and far more childlike than Carole was used to hearing from her.

“I wish I could have a horse.”

* * *

Shelby fumbled for her phone and put it to her ear without looking at it.  “Hello.”

_“It’s me.”_

“Noah?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and tried to focus on the clock. “It’s… almost 12:30 in the morning.”

 _“Yeah, sorry.”_  He did actually sound sorry. He also sounded somewhat panicked, which was what woke her up the rest of the way.

“No, it’s okay. I thought you were going out of town. And don’t you have school tomorrow?”

 _“Yeah, I just got back from a… kind of family vacation. But I was on my way back to Lima, and I got to thinking.”_  There was a restless pause.  _“I don’t know, it’s been a long time I’ve had this mohawk, and maybe… it’s time for a change. Something new.”_

She didn’t repeat the  _it’s 12:30 AM,_ or  _you have school tomorrow._ Clearly this was more important than that, even if she didn’t know the reason. “Noah, you love that mohawk.”

 _“It’s okay.”_ He sounded dismissive.  _“It’s awesome because it makes people fear me. But that’s also why it might suck to have one when I’m a papa. Papas don’t have mohawks.”_

“I think some of them do. But it’s your hair, you get to decide what you want to do with it.”

 _“I don’t know,”_ he said. Now he was sounding panicky again.  _“I don’t think I can ask Kurt or Finn to help with this.”_

“Help… what, you mean… cut your hair?”

_“Yeah. I have clippers, I mean, I could do it, but it’d be hard to see if I got the whole top.”_

“I — I suppose I could help with that. We could get together for dinner on —“

_“I’m in Akron, ten minutes from your house.”_

She paused and looked at the phone again. Yes, that did say 12:33 AM. “Okay…” She sighed. “Come on over.”

 _“Thanks,”_ he said, obviously relieved.  _“I owe you, big time.”_

Shelby put on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, then thought better of it and added a bulky sweatshirt over that. No matter how gay they might be, sixteen-year-old boys did not need any encouragement. Then she made a papaya-lime smoothie and drank half of it, waiting for Puck to arrive.

“Thanks for the water filter pitcher, by the way,” he said when he arrived. “It made a huge difference to my soup stock.”

“The water in that apartment was never the best.” She ushered him into the kitchen and handed him the other half of the smoothie. He drank it gratefully. “So tell it to me straight, Noah. What’s going on with your hair?”

He couldn’t make eye contact with her. “It’s complicated.”

“You’re not going to wake me up in the middle of the night and not give me details,” she said. “Come on.”

“It’s about… the stuff you don’t want to hear about.”

“I’ll deal. I’m not completely innocent here. If your Top were telling you to shave your hair, you would have done it by now.” She looked more closely at him, the way he was squirming on the couch. “Or would you? Noah, who told you to shave your head?”

“Nobody…” he hedged. 

“ _Noah.”_

“She just  _suggested_  it. She didn’t  _order_  me to do it. And I don’t think she would, no matter how much she hates it.”

“ _Who?_ ” she demanded.

“It was… Tess Riordan.”

Shelby stared at him. She almost demanded that he prove it, but he’d already brought up her name once, so she knew  _he_  knew who she was, and she didn’t think Puck would outright lie to her. “And you think  _I’m_  going to do what  _she_  says?”

“No! I mean — it’s not about that.” He gave her a pained look. “Look, I’m going to have to deal with this eventually. When you come right down to it, I’m the other faggot at McKinley now. Between that and Glee club, my status has pretty much tanked. When it gets out that I’m a sl — that I have three other guys in charge of me, I’m never going to hang on to my cred as a badass.” He leaned his elbow on her counter, his face a picture of conflict.  

“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who cares what other people think about you.”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

“You like… having other people in charge of you?” She couldn’t keep some of the bafflement out of her voice. That had been the least palatable part of her adventure into BDSM with Carl, even less appealing than the pain. But he nodded, and he only looked a little embarrassed to be admitting this.

“I think I always liked it,” he said slowly. “But my dad… he made it bad, to trust the guy who was in charge of me. It took me a little while to find somebody I  _could_  trust?”

“Finn,” she said. But he shook his head again. He set his empty glass in the sink.

“Another guy. And his two lovers, women, in Santa Fe. I barely talk to them anymore, but it was really… they were great.” His voice was soft. “I learned a lot about what I wanted. Well… I knew I wanted Finn, and I never thought I’d get to have that. But I also want… all that other stuff. I want that just as much. And I’m sure nobody at McKinley would understand that, if it came out.”

Despite the hour, and the complicated nature of his story, she couldn’t help but feel sympathetic. “I may not get the appeal of  _that other stuff,_ but I understand the way it feels to be excluded. When I was pregnant with Jesse, my junior year of high school, I found out just how many people who _said_  they were my friends really weren’t.”

“Yeah, Quinn’s going through that right now.” He saw her blank expression, and clarified, “Quinn, Finn’s girlfriend, the one I slept with, who’s carrying my —“

“Oh, yes. Right.” She shook her head and drank another swallow of smoothie. This was a complicated cast of characters. “Yeah, but I ran away from that. I went to New York until the baby was born, and when I came back, it was my senior year. I had to start over again, but at least I didn’t have to face them every day with that baby in my tummy.”

“You didn’t want to be a mother,” he said.

“Hell, no.” She made a face. “But I think that’s what I got for having sex with a Catholic boy who wouldn’t use birth control.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever make that mistake again,” he said fervently. “Not that I have a lot of cause to need birth control these days.”

“I didn’t want to be a mother the  _second_  time, either. And that was even worse, because I felt like I should have known better. But I’d taken precautions. It wasn’t like we didn’t use birth control, not the second time. It just failed. Another hard-learned lesson.” 

“But I really  _do_  want to be a papa,” he said. “Not a loser asshole father like my dad, but a real one.”

“Noah, you’re nothing like your dad,” Shelby told him firmly. He smiled at her. It was endearing, the way he’d come to trust her. She realized, as she stood there smiling back, that she trusted him, too. She reached out and took his hand, and he stared at it in surprise. “I can’t think of too many kids your age I would say this to, but I think you’re going to be a good father.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” he said. “But… Kurt tells me the same thing, and I think I have to believe him?”

She nodded. “He’s in charge, right?”

“He’s one of them. And Finn.” His expression softened, becoming more vulnerable. “And the other guy, the one I can’t really talk about. He said I could call him Max.”

“He’s the one who lives far away? You went to see him this weekend.”

“Yeah.” He ran his hand over his mohawk. “I don’t know what he’s going to think about  _this.”_

“I can’t imagine he’s going to be upset. It’s just hair.”

“It’s not,” he said wistfully. “But… I think I’m ready to let it go, anyway.” 

He handed his clippers to Shelby, showing her how to set the guard to make it all one length all over. When she switched it on and ran the clippers across the nape of his neck, he shivered, and she immediately paused, asking anxiously, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s fine.” He sat with his head down, staring at the floor, where the first snippets of hair had fallen onto the tile of her kitchen floor. “It’s, you know. One of those things you can’t undo, once you’ve done it.”

“I’ll wait, until you’re ready.”

“Nah,” he said. “Just do it. I’ll try not to freak out.”

“If you were older, I’d suggest a drink.”  

He grinned at that. “Not like I don’t drink.”

“No, but I won’t be contributing to the delinquency of a minor, thank you very much.”

“I’m delinquent enough.” This time he held himself very still as she cut off another strip, and then another, but she could still feel the tension in the muscles of his shoulders.

“When I can’t calm down, I sing,” she suggested.

Puck was quiet for a moment, while the clippers buzzed. And then he opened his mouth, and in an absolutely sweet, charming voice, he proceeded to sing a song she’d never heard:

 _Whenever I'm dressed cool my parents put up a fight_  
 _And if I'm hot shot, Mom will cut my hair at night_  
 _And in the morning I'm short of my identity_  
 _I scream Mom and Dad why can't I be who I wanna be?_  
 _I just wanna be myself and I want you to love me for who I am  
_ _I just wanna be myself and I want you to know, I am my hair_

He stopped when she turned the clippers off, regarding him from all angles. “I think I’m done.” She waited while he ran his hand over his head, his expression hard to read. “What was that?”

“Lady Gaga,” he said absently. “It’s coming out in the fall.”

Shelby set the clippers down. “I don’t think you should drive back to Lima tonight. It’s too late. Who can I call, to let them know you’ve got a safe place to stay?”

At that, Puck’s face shuttered. “Nobody. I live by myself.”

She tried not to be flustered. “Well, then… can I call you in at school? You can sleep on the couch.”

“Yeah,” he said. He nodded wearily. “That’d be… thanks. I don’t think I’m going to sleep for a while, though.”

“Okay.” She watched him, trying to decipher his body language. “Having regrets?”

“No,” he said immediately. “I’m just… missing people. And I should call him — um, Max. I’m supposed to call him every night, but…” He glanced helplessly at the hallway, then sank to his knees and began to sweep the hair into a pile with the side of his hand.

“Look,” Shelby began, then paused. She reached into the pantry and got the dustpan and hand broom, and handed them to him without another word. The grateful smile he gave her made her feel a little uncomfortable, but she wasn’t going to take away his comfort measures, no matter how bizarre they were. She cleaned up around him in the kitchen while he finished sweeping.  

“You really think I’ll be a good papa?” he asked, sounding small and uncertain.

“You really think I’m the one to ask?” she shot back. “Look what a successful mother I’ve been so far.”

He let out a startled chuckle. “Okay, I’ll give you that. I mean, Jesse’s not so bad.”

“I wasn’t his mother.” She set her pen down on the counter with a firm click. “My sister Rachel was his mother. And I wasn’t my daughter’s mother _either,_  and now I’ll never —“ She had to stop, finding herself perilously close to tears.  

But then Puck was there, standing beside her, murmuring, “You are,” and putting his arms around her, far more warm and comforting and  _safe_  than she’d experienced from another person in years. She choked on a denial and just clung to the human presence of him for a few moments before pushing him away.  

“I am what?” she asked, turning aside to wipe her eyes.

“You  _are_  their mother,” he said. “It’s that thing Timmy made me realize. Even if my dad wasn’t there, even if he left, he’s still my dad. Maybe he doesn’t know me very well, but he’s  _part_  of me anyway, whether I like it or not.”

“And do you?” she demanded.

He looked at her quizzically. “Do I what?”

“Like it?”

“Do I like that he’s my dad?” He blew out a breath. “I… no? But I guess I like  _having_  a dad. Burt’s awesome, of course.”

“You can have as many parents as you need,” she said. She felt a little embarrassed at her emotional instability, but the conversation was turning out to be interesting.

“I guess that’s true.” He watched her, and hesitantly asked, “The last time, when we were trading secrets? You said you couldn’t… that there were things you couldn’t tell me.”

“Yeah. I still can’t.”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. “I was just remembering that you’d said… there were plenty of men out there, but nobody who would give you what you wanted.”

Shelby tried to maintain her composure. “So far, no.”

“So…” Puck looked so  _concerned._  “What do you want? It’s not any of the weird stuff that I like. It’s not anything I’ve been able to think of. So…” He shrugged, suddenly frustrated. “ _What?”_   

She let out a slow breath. “Noah… I don’t know if I can —“

“Shelby,” he said, sounding positively desperate. “I’m kind of freaking out here. Just — tell me? I don’t even care what it is.”

She could see the anxiety peak, washing over him in jagged waves of turmoil. It was enough to overcome her own embarrassment and shame at wanting — what she wanted. “If I tell you, will you stay here tonight?” she asked. “On the couch. I just need to know you’re not going to try to drive home when you’re like this.”

He furrowed his brow at her. “Like what?”

“Noah…”

“Okay, okay,” he said impatiently. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

“I’ll get you a set of sheets.” She was already moving toward the hallway. “Bathroom’s around the corner. There’s a new toothbrush in the middle drawer.”

It didn’t even occur to her to feel weird about it. What was weird was how weird it  _wasn’t._  But she still didn’t know how to quantify their situation. Noah wasn’t a friend, and he wasn’t a student. He wasn’t a man, and he wasn’t a child. He was — she shook her head, loading up her arms with linens.

She didn’t look at him while she made up the couch like a bed, carefully tucking the pillow into a fresh case. He kicked off his jeans, letting them fall on the floor in a heap, and she waited until he’d settled on the couch to pick them up and fold them.

“Okay,” she sighed, sitting beside him, and met his eyes. “So… you know about Jesse. And you know there’s another, a girl, a few years later.” He nodded, and she went on. “I didn’t want to have a baby with Carl. I wasn’t  _ready_  to have a baby with Davis. And now, I…”  

She waited long enough that he prompted, “What?”

“I… want to try again.” She shrugged. “I’m ready for that now. I think. But I don’t want to get married, and all the men with children, they’re pretty much invested in doing that. I like being single. Men are impossible to live with.”

Puck listened thoughtfully. “Couldn’t you just, you know, find a guy and get pregnant?”

She shuddered. “God. I  _really_  don’t want to do  _that_  again. No, I don’t want to  _have_  another baby.”

“Okay. So… adopt a kid?” He still looked confused. “Why can’t you do that?”

“It’s really hard to adopt as a single parent in a lot of states, even if you go through the foster care system. I’m not saying it’s impossible. I’m just saying I already get discouraged just thinking about whether or not I deserve that.”

“You  _want_  to be a parent,” he said. “Right?”

“Look, I know it probably sounds stupid…”

He put out a hand. “Shelby, I think as long as you  _want_  that, you deserve it.”

She took a minute to breathe, listening to that statement.

“Even if I gave up my first two kids?” she asked finally.

He considered that. “I think they did okay for themselves. Right? They’re happy and healthy and they have good opportunities and stuff?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, “yeah, they have all those things.”

“Then don’t you think you gave them what they needed?” he persisted.

She nodded, holding her breath while he squeezed her arm, looking calm and certain. “That’s the answer, then.”

She waited beside the couch while he closed his eyes. She expected his jaw to go slack and his breathing to even out eventually, but he just sat there. Maybe he was waiting for the same thing to happen.

“I have these dreams,” he said eventually. “About being a papa. About my daughter. Most of them… have this other guy in them, this guy I only met once a couple months ago and haven’t seen again since.” He let out a long sigh, his eyes still closed. “I don’t usually worry about not sleeping, but… I think it’s kind of weird to miss somebody I don’t even know.”

She was charmed despite herself. “You think he’s sitting awake thinking about you, too?”

“I hope not,” he said emphatically. “I hope wherever he is, he’s happy and sleeping well and he doesn’t even remember me.”  

Eventually she stood up, leaving him there on the couch, and turned out the light. “I have to get up in the morning and teach,” she said, like a warning, but he shook his head, waving her on. 

“It’s fine. Nobody else stays up at night like me except my sister. I’m used to being alone at night.” He touched his head. “Thanks, again, for this.”

“Sure.”  

Shelby left the light on over the stove, in case Puck needed to get up for anything, and went to her own bed. She almost felt guilty that it was so easy for her to drop off to sleep, knowing that Puck was still there on the couch, likely wide awake.  

But in the morning, when she awoke to her alarm clock, she found Puck snoring with his face half-buried under the pillow. She quietly made a call to the McKinley main office.

“This is Shelby Corcoran,” she said briskly. “I’m a teacher at Carmel High in Akron, calling to excuse Noah Puckerman from morning classes. He… had his head looked at. But he should be back by this afternoon.”

She left her spare key on the table, along with a note:  _You now have access to my apartment when you need it. Don’t abuse it. Your excuse for shaving your head could be that your barber found a mole on your head while he was trimming your hair, and your doctor wanted to look more closely at it._ She thought about it for a while over coffee, watching Puck’s comatose form on the couch, then added,  _I’m glad you got some sleep. Dinner this week in Lima? -S._

Toby was in the teacher’s lounge when she arrived at school, ten minutes early. She stared at him as she entered.

“Who are you,” she demanded, “and what have you done with Mr. Grey, who is perpetually late?”

“Mr. Black?” Toby suggested, showing her his similarly-colored coffee from the pot in the teacher’s lounge. “I’m taking a break from Starbucks.”

“Admirable. How’s it taste?”

“Completely shitty.” He drained his mug and set it down beside the pot, picking up the newspaper. “Oh, look, they’re doing  _Cabaret_  this spring in Barberton.”

“If it’s Garcia directing, she doesn’t know her way out of a wet paper bag,” she advised. “I’d rather drive the forty miles to Cleveland to do a show with Clayton Pace before trusting  _her_  to put together a meaningful production.”

He made a face. “Pity. I’ve been wanting to play the Emcee again.”

Shelby waited while Toby refilled his mug, then followed him down the hall toward the studio with her own mug of shitty black coffee. She only hesitated a moment before telling him, “Noah Puckerman showed up at my condo last night and asked me to shave his head.”

Toby managed not to trip and spill his mug all over the clean floor. His eyes were enormous. “Shelby? You two ain’t —“

“We are  _not,”_  she said as firmly as she could. “My tastes lean far more toward gay show choir directors than to clueless teenagers. Not that I’m about to hit on  _you,_  considering you’re practically married to your mystery man.”

“Think again,” he muttered.  

“That bad? I thought you’d resolved to call him and patch things up.”

“That was before the guy I cheated with tested positive.”

There was no joke she could make about that. She stopped Toby in the hallway and clutched his arm. “God, I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Toby’s tone was agonized. “Not half as sorry as I am. I have to tell my fiance. And, dammit, I didn’t manage to stay clean for all these years only to end up HIV+ in  _Ohio.”_

“The virus travels here as well as anywhere.” She continued walking with him, watching his expression go bitter. “You’re making the right decision. He deserves to know.”

“I wouldn’t keep it from him, darlin’. I love him too much to do that to him.” He gave her a wry salute with his shitty coffee. “And we ain’t never been all that good at hiding anything from one another.”  

* * *

The house seemed very empty when Kurt awoke early for Cheerios practice on Monday morning.  He had to force himself to put his feet on the floor, stand and move toward the closet to pick out his clothes.  It was the same selection he’d had on Thursday before driving down to Tessera, but at the moment, all he could see was how inadequate it all was.  

 _Is this me?_  He paged through the colors, patterns, fabrics, hanger after padded hanger.  _Is this? How much of me is here in this closet, and how much of me is simply hiding in these clothes, trying to find a way to express the person I wish I could be?_  

The house was silent. The only person there to ask wouldn’t be awake for another hour, and Kurt wasn’t sure he trusted his father to have actual opinions about wardrobe. Sarah might be awake, and he valued her thoughts about clothing, but she was existing at the middle school. That was a completely different environment than the one Kurt lived in — not that he would have allowed someone to pay him  _any_  amount of money to be back in middle school again.

He knew at least part of his current angst was sadness at saying goodbye to Adam again. This time was worse, in some ways, because they had no idea when they would see one another again. But in other ways, it was so much better than it had been in January. Adam was beginning to feel a lot less like a dream and a lot more like a miraculous reality. Even though he was still and likely always would be a secret from everybody outside of Kurt’s family, his family was getting to be pretty damn big.  

This was, of course, the second part of his angst. Everyone had scattered back to their respective spaces. The house currently held only two other members of his family. In a few months, at least, it would house two more. That made him feel so much more hopeful, even if the transition might be stressful for everyone.  

 _Noah wants to be our… slave._ It was such a queer, unexpected idea, and yet it appeared that that was exactly what Puck would need to feel better. The way that Puck  _gave_  himself, and wanted only to have people take from him in return, was so clear now. Kurt hoped that this would help solve some significant problems with the dynamic of the house. And when the baby came… yes, that would be something new, but after seeing Puck with Cory and Duncan, he wasn’t nearly so worried about that anymore. He  _knew_  Puck would be a competent, dedicated father — as long as he was getting what he needed.  

Which brought Kurt to the last portion of his angst. This weekend had shown him very clearly that Puck still responded to Finn. It had been wonderful to see them together again, to see Puck reacting to Finn’s dominant qualities — and it also scared him. Because all the things that Puck responded to most from Finn were things that Kurt didn’t possess himself. Finn was masculine; Kurt was feminine. Finn was deliberate; Kurt was spontaneous.  

This had never been so obvious as when they’d watched Finn sing. Kurt had watched the way Puck reacted to Finn’s throaty vocals and brash stage presence with a sinking sense of futility. It was amazing how watching Finn do the things he couldn’t still made him feel so inadequate. It didn’t matter how much Puck responded to him, or how many times he told Kurt that he loved him; Kurt still was never going to be like Finn — or Adam.

And that just  _pissed him off._  He’d had the opportunity to sit and listen to Finn and Adam and Puck and his dad and Carole talk for seven hours on the way back from Tessera about the bands they admired and the music they’d loved growing up. Kurt mostly was silent through their conversation. When he’d attempted to contribute, they’d either ignored him or been impatient or politely condescending, and he’d retreated into resentful silence again.  Was there something  _wrong_  with him, just because he listened to different kinds of music than they did?

He put on his Cheerios uniform in silence. When he checked on Sarah, he was somewhat disappointed to see she was asleep, but mostly he was relieved. She didn’t sleep quite as poorly as Puck did, but it was sporadic; some nights she was up hours before he was. He closed her door quietly, hoping she would stay asleep for a while longer.

Kurt texted Mercedes as he opened the garage door.  _Heading over now._

Mercedes looked at him with barely contained curiosity when she opened the passenger side to climb into the Navigator.  

“So how was your weekend?” she said sweetly.

“Unbelievable,” Kurt admitted. Even in his grumpy, sleep-deprived mood, he couldn’t deny that, and he smiled despite himself. “It was… an amazing family vacation.”

“I still can’t believe your dad let you bring your _boyfriends_  with you,” she marveled. “And the secret guy from California, he was there?”

“Yeah.” He felt the familiar twinge of missing-Adam that followed him around most of the time. “You’re really not going to mention him to anyone, okay? It’s even more secret than — well, just about anything.”

“Kurt, I don’t know what you’re so worried about people finding out.”

“Just trust me, this one I don’t want people poking their nose into. The less people know, the better. My relationships are already complicated enough.”

She shook her head. “I think everybody in Glee knows about Finn by now, don’t they?”

“No,” he said firmly. “They don’t. And we’re not advertising it until we’re absolutely sure this adoption with Sarah and Noah is happening. I should have been more careful about people finding out about Noah and me, but it’s too late to worry about that now. Finn’s going to perpetuate the story that he likes girls, and we’re all going to reinforce that.”

“I guess that won’t be too hard to do,” Mercedes said, but she sounded a little doubtful. “I mean, he still does? Like girls?”

“I don’t think he would have been so invested in Quinn or Rachel if he didn’t. Noah certainly still likes girls. I’m not going to question Finn’s orientation. He likes me, and that’s all that matters to me.” 

It wasn’t exactly true, but Kurt didn’t want to complain to Mercedes, not when his life was so obviously full of love. It would be easy to make it sound like he was ungrateful, and he wasn’t, not at all. He didn’t think Mercedes would understand the complaint that Puck listened better to Finn because he was a  _guy._   

“Well, I won’t say anything until you tell me it’s okay,” she assured him. “So are you sure you don’t want to help out with this Cheerios fundraiser?”

“Ohhh, no,” he told her. He pulled into the McKinley parking lot and turned off the Navigator with a decisive twist of his key. “Me, a slave? I can just see some Neanderthal like Rick or Dave buying the rights to control my every action for the next week.” He shuddered. “I’ll maintain control over my own autonomy, thank you.”  _Mostly._  He wasn’t going to say anything about the way Adam had tied him up.  

But as they approached the gymnasium, Kurt added, “Noah said he might like to volunteer, though.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mercedes brightened. “He could bring a great price if he was willing to cook. And entertain.”

“He’s a good babysitter, too. And he cleans up after himself.”

She gave him a sideways look that made him wonder if he’d said too much. They hadn’t exactly hidden their dynamic from Mercedes when she came over to hang out and play video games, but they’d relied on her lack of awareness regarding Puck’s submissive status. He closed his mouth and began his warm-ups.

* * *

Emma stopped to talk to Puck when she saw him waiting at the front desk of the office during fifth period.  She wasn’t sure exactly what was different about him until he sighed glumly and touched his head.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Your hair. You shaved the mohawk?”

“Somebody did,” he muttered. “Yeah. I got called in late. Glee’s next, and I can already tell it’s going to suck walking down that hallway.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Come on, Ms. P.” He shook his head. “High school kids are assh — uh, jerks. You can bet you’ll be fishing me out of the dumpster before the end of the week.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” She smiled encouragingly at him. “I think you look very handsome.”

“Thanks.” He dug into his pocket for his phone and handed it to her. “Would you take a picture for me? I should send it to someone.”

“To whom?” She clicked the picture. He didn’t smile, but he put on a slightly more polite expression than he probably would have if it had been for a friend. “A relative?”

“My — aunt Tess. Oh, and I guess I could send it to my brother, too. I saw him this weekend.”  

Emma swung into step beside him as he began the trek across the school toward the choir room. “Oh, Timothy! How’s he doing? I was just thinking about him the other day. His story has always seemed so inspirational to me, the way he was able to finish college after dropping out of high school.”

“You should call him and tell him that.” Puck gave her a wry grin. “He could probably use some cheering up. He had a tough weekend.”

“I would love to,” she agreed. “Do you have his phone number?”

Emma stood back and watched Puck descend into a sea of high school students, all of whom looked at him as though he’d arrived from Mars. She thought about what he’d said about the dumpster. On her way back to her office, she stopped at the custodian’s office, the lunch room and the nurse’s office. In each, she delivered essentially the same message to her colleagues: Noah Puckerman could use a little extra support. It wouldn’t be a surprise to any of them, not after the year he’d had already, and they’d all watch out for him in their own ways.  

She dialed the number Puck had given her, wondering if Timothy would answer. It was a Lima number, but she seem to remember Puck mentioning he’d moved somewhere else. But after two rings, there was a shuffling, and an efficient voice said, _“This is Jacob.”_

“Oh — perhaps I have the wrong number.” She checked the piece of paper Puck had scribbled on. “I was looking for Timothy Puckerman.”

_“This is his phone, yeah. Sorry, he’s a little busy right now. Could I let him know you called?”_

“Yes, please.” She left her direct number, but before she could mention who she was, Jacob thanked her and disconnected the call. Perhaps he’d been in a hurry.

When he called back later, she wasn’t paying attention to who it was on the caller ID. She just picked up her phone and said, “Emma Pillsbury, may I help you?”

 _“Yeah, you’re not at all convincing,”_ said the voice on the other end. It sounded exasperated, but familiar. 

“Timothy?”

_“You don’t quite have her voice right, Noah. And shouldn’t you have picked somebody more likely to be calling me after being gone from that fucking school for almost nine years?”_

She almost smiled. “Well, I did actually want to —“

 _“Imagine, Miss Pillsbury,”_ he went on blithely, _“catching me on the phone, asking me about what I’ve been up to, and me having to admit that my boyfriend’s been spanking the crap out of me all morning…”_

Apparently the noise she made was enough to cause him to pause in his pronouncement.  

 _“Noah?”_ he said uneasily.

“I— I’m sorry, Timothy,” she gasped, “I’ll — I really do want to catch up with you, and — there’s nothing  _wrong_  with that, please don’t think I’m judging you —“

 _“Oh my god,”_ he whispered.  _“Miss Pillsbury?_

She hung up the phone, feeling her heart scrambling to catch up with her brain. After a few moments, she decided she would not pass out. Overriding the embarrassment and shock was another emotion, one she had trouble identifying, but it definitely involved yearning.  

With shaking fingers, she reached into her purse and took out her own phone, dialing the number she’d been deliberately  _not_  thinking about all weekend, because he’d been very clear he’d be on vacation, and —

 _“Howell and Lawton,”_ said Angela.

“I need to make an appointment with Dr. Howell,” Emma replied in a rush, and took a breath. “Please.”

* * *

Blaine wasn’t entirely done with his Monday reading for history, but he needed a break.  He took his guitar out of its case and sat in the center of his bed, squirming a little.  

 _I guess this is the feeling of needing a… spanking._  He was starting to recognize it. But Finn was still away with his family for the weekend. He wasn’t even sure when he was coming home. And even if he  _were_  home, Blaine still didn’t feel like he had the right to call him and ask for something like that. Finn was obviously busy.  

He strummed the two songs he’d played the week before at the open mic, when Finn hadn’t been able to be there, but Carl had. They were both in the same key, and he switched back and forth between them, singing the fast one more slowly and speeding up the slow one until they made a reasonable mashup:

 _In every heart there is a room  
_ _A sanctuary safe and strong  
_ _To heal the wounds from lovers past  
_ _Until a new one comes along_  

 _Get up in the morning  
_ _Just to greet the day  
_ _Get up in the morning  
_ _I can't keep it in  
_ _I'm falling all over myself  
_ _Like I could jump out of my skin_  

Singing the wistful Billy Joel and the joyous Gotye, together, put him into a strange emotional place. Finn was definitely his sanctuary, and when he felt that itchy, jump-out-of-his-skin sensation, there was nothing that settled him more than this — this  _boy,_  who’d seemingly appeared from nowhere to solve all his problems. He still wasn’t sure what to think of all the  _feelings_  Finn inspired in him, but he was pretty sure he didn’t deserve most of them.  

 _I spoke to you in cautious tones  
_ _You answered me with no pretense  
_ _And still I feel I said too much  
_ _My silence is my self-defense_  

 _Wanna break the door down  
_ _Just to greet the day  
_ _‘Cause there ain't nothing that's more certain  
_ _To keep my blues away  
_ _And I say  
_ _(La la, hey hey)  
_ _And I say  
_ _(La la, hey hey)_  

 _And every time I’ve held a rose  
_ _It seems I only felt the thorns  
_ _And so it goes, and so it goes  
_ _And soon will you soon, I suppose_  

 _And it can settle the sadness  
_ _And the voices in my head  
_ _When I'm in the glow of the warmth you throw  
_ _I can put all that to bed_  

 _In your light, just when I'm in your light  
_ _And I won't get by if you take that light away_  

Blaine was singing a whole soft series of  _la, la_ swhile noodling around the accompaniment, when his phone chimed with an email. He glanced at it briefly on his bed, and then stopped playing and picked up the phone with a curl of excitement in his belly.  

It was from Finn, and — the subject heading made him blink.

 

 

> _Date: Mon Feb 15, 2010_  
>  _From:  christopherincolumbus at gmail dot com  
> _ _To: patrick.2010 at gmail dot com  
> _ _Subject: Happy belated Valentine’s Day_
> 
> _Carl told me that “belated” was the word you use when you felt sorry for being late for something. I guess this isn’t quite that, because I wasn’t even sure if I should send you anything for Valentine’s Day, but… I wanted you to know I was thinking about you, anyway. Sorry if that’s weird._
> 
> _So this weekend, we did some singing, and even though we weren’t there at Java the Hut to sing it with you, I know we’d talked about doing this song, so I thought you’d like to hear it. Carl’s playing the guitar part, of course, the one that sounds like the Nirvana song. You can kind of hear everybody else in the background doing the drum part on their legs._
> 
> _I’m pretty sure I’ll be at the open mic this weekend. Hope you had a good Valentine’s Day._
> 
> _-Finn_
> 
>  

The whole email made him feel so overwhelmed that he just sat there for a few minutes, rereading it several times, before he opened the attachment.

The video was a shaky clip of Finn and Carl, sitting on some kind of raised stage in what looked to be a formal dining room. He couldn’t see any of the other people, although he could hear their voices occasionally. But he was entirely captivated by the vision of Finn, holding the microphone and striding around the stage like he owned it as he sang the Boston song: 

_I woke up this morning and the sun was gone_  
 _Turned on some music to start my day_  
 _I lost myself in a familiar song_  
 _I closed my eyes and I slipped away_

_It's more than a feeling_  
 _More than a feeling_  
 _When I hear that old song they used to play_

Somebody else was singing backup with Finn, somebody besides Carl, but Blaine couldn’t see his face. He watched the clip, which was about a minute long, and then started it over again from the beginning and watched it again.  

Finn’s expression made it hard to breathe. The way he was smiling, the amount of energy he was putting forth, Blaine wanted to sink to his knees in front of him and absorb it, like it was manna from heaven. He’d never felt obsessive about a singer before, but he thought maybe he understood a little bit about how those girls had been about Elvis or the Beatles during the ‘50s and ‘60s.  

 _I’d do anything for him,_  he thought, his face scarlet. He played the clip over again.  

“Who’s  _that?”_

Blaine jumped, then turned to see his neighbor Trey beside him, looking over his shoulder at the video clip with interest. He immediately cupped it to his chest.

“Nobody. He’s… my friend.”

“Wow, he’s a hottie.” Trey sounded approving. “Does he go to Dalton? I’m pretty sure we should have him audition for the Warblers if he does.”

“No, he’s — he doesn’t.” Blaine realized his voice was shaking, and he clamped down on his anxiety, putting on the confident mask he often used to get through his day. “But yeah, he’s really talented, isn’t he? How was your weekend?”

Blaine set aside his guitar and tucked his phone away, getting Trey talking about what he did that weekend, and the conversation was conveniently forgotten. It wasn’t until after dinner, when he’d returned to his room and  _locked_  his door this time, that he allowed himself to sit on the edge of his bed and watch the clip again.  

Then he took an hour and a half to compose a reply to Finn’s email. Most of what he wrote and erased, wrote and erased, made him blush entirely too much, and he kept his finger far, far away from the “Send” button, so as not to accidentally press it and send him something embarrassing. In the end, he thought the reply sounded appropriate and not too obsessive.  

 

> _Date: Mon Feb 15, 2010  
> _ _From: patrick.2010 at gmail dot com  
> _ _To: christopherincolumbus at gmail dot com  
> _ _Subject: Re: Happy belated Valentine’s Day_  
> 
> _I was so glad to receive your email. The video clip was a welcome surprise; thank you for thinking of me. I didn’t expect to hear from you on Valentine’s Day, but I’ve never had anyone do something special for me on that day, so I wasn’t surprised? In any case, it wasn’t weird, and thank you again. You and Carl sound amazing. I hope we get a chance to sing that together soon._
> 
> _-Blaine_
> 
>  

Some of the things he did not say included:  _I’ve been smiling nonstop since I received your email. I can’t believe you asked someone to record that performance for me. What did you tell them it was for? I’ve watched that clip you sent me over two dozen times. You have the most incredible smile. I would listen to you sing anything at all, Finn. It makes me cry that you thought about me on Valentine’s Day._ And, especially not,  _I really miss you and would you please drive two and a half hours out here to give me a spanking?_  Because, really, how could he  _ask_  that? 

He was fine, and he would see Finn in six days at the open mic, and that would be enough. He would not throw himself at this boy who obviously had a very full life already. He would simply be grateful for what Finn was already giving him. 

* * *

Mercedes paused, squinting in the afternoon sunlight across the parking lot at the smooth head protruding from the dumpster.  “Wait… is that  _Puck_?”

“Yeah,” Santana said dismissively. “Ignore him. He’s just whining because he had to cut off his hair. His barber found a mole on his head.”

She was sure that was a wink he gave her before clambering over the edge and back onto the pavement. When he shuffled over to Mercedes and the other Cheerios, the others ignored him.  

“Beat it, Suckerman,” Santana said, pushing past him, “we’ve got this fundraiser to set up for. And if you find your loser boyfriend, ask him why he’s not helping.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Mercedes called. She watched Puck’s sad eyes until everyone else disappeared, then stepped in a little closer. “Are you faking or what?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Puck said, avoiding her eyes, but she could have sworn he was suppressing a grin.  

“Did you really find a mole on your head?”

“I didn’t find anything. Somebody else shaved it; I didn’t ask her what she found while she was doing it.” He brushed his hand over his head in what looked like a reflexive movement, and looked hopefully at Mercedes. “You doing this slave auction thing?”

“I’m helping organize it, yes. Kurt told me you wanted to help.”  

“Yeah, well, my street cred’s down to about negative three, so I don’t know if you’d even want me on your stage, but… yeah, I’d help.”

She took his arm and tugged him along beside her. “Sure. Yes, your help would be welcome. Thank you.”

It was a little strange to see the kind of looks they got, walking together through the parking lot. Mercedes wasn’t sure if they were exactly positive, but at least nobody was trying to throw Puck into the dumpster anymore. Now he was definitely grinning at her.

“Did you have a good time with Kurt this weekend?” she found herself asking.

Puck glanced around like somebody might be trying to overhear, even though nobody was within ten feet of them. “Um… I’m not sure I’m supposed to talk about that.”

“He told me you guys got together with that guy from California,” she added. “The one the two of you… met.”

“Oh.” He blinked, looking startled. “Really? He said that to you?”

“And he made me promise not to tell anybody.”

Puck didn’t look like he was going to say anything else, but when they got to the gym, he murmured, “I’m not sure how he would feel. About — me being a slave.”

“Your guy in California?” Mercedes clarified. Puck nodded. That didn’t make much sense, but Puck actually did look anxious. “Well, I’m sure he’d understand if he knew it was a fundraiser.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He grinned. “He’s the one who told Kurt he should join the Cheerios.”

That was another surprising piece of information. She wondered what else Puck might be willing to tell her.  

“Come on,” she said, and they walked across the gym to where Brittany and Matt were setting up the risers. Puck helped them lift the podium up on top of it, along with one of Coach Sylvester’s megaphones.  

Santana was sitting at a table nearby with a clipboard, reviewing a short list of names. She glanced up when Puck tried to look at the list, and pulled it away, sneering, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m here to volunteer.” He showed off his guns. “Somebody would pay big bucks for me, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Santana allowed. “You going to make that fish and steak dinner, like you cooked last fall?”

“I could do better,” he boasted. “Whatever they wanted.”

It made Mercedes feel uneasy, listening to him bragging about what other people could make him do. “That’s enough of that,” she said, a little sharply, and he stopped talking, glancing up at her uncertainly. She smiled. “Why don’t you wait and see who bids on you, okay?”

Santana was watching her suspiciously, but Mercedes stared her down until she went back to doing what she was doing. She wrote something on her list and sighed. “Fine. You’re signed up. Although I’m guessing people are going to take one look at your head and think they’re bidding on a Q-tip.”

“I think he looks good like this,” Mercedes retorted. “Puck, don’t listen to her. She’s just trying to give you a hard time.” She sat down next to him on the edge of the risers, out of the way of the Cheerios unfolding tables and setting up banners. “What did Kurt think of your new ‘do?”

“He was surprised,” he said. “But I think he liked it. I guess I’ll find out later. He doesn’t really show how he feels at school much.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” She lowered her voice. “What about Finn? The two of you are… again, right?”

“Yeah.” The word was hoarse. She could see on his face just how much it meant to him that they were,  _again_. It made her want to hug him, but she wasn’t about to embarrass him by doing that in front of everyone.  

The seats in front of the risers were filling up, mostly with upperclassmen who were dating Cheerios or wanted to be dating Cheerios. It still felt more than a little strange to be included in the activities of the popular crowd, but Mercedes was getting smiles from most of the girls who used to ignore her, and that was oddly vindicating.  

Eventually Santana stood, waving a hand for silence. “All right. We’re going to get this slave auction started. First of all, let me be clear that everyone involved is a volunteer. That means nobody got pressured into doing this. Here’s how it’s going to work. Raise your hand and state your bid, five dollars and up, increasing by fives, no maximum. If you win the auction, you’ve got yourself a slave for the rest of the week. Slaves will do all of their work between the hours of dawn and dusk. Chauffeuring, light labor, helping with homework are all okay. Nothing romantic or sexual is required, and there are zero implications for what happens after Friday. You pay now, cash, or not at all. All money is a donation to help the Cheerios make it to Nationals. Any questions?”

“How much for you, baby?” called one comedian upperclassman. Everyone went _ooooh._   

Santana didn’t even bother to make eye contact with him. She sounded bored. “Any questions?” she repeated. “Good. First up, Daniel Shaw.”

Daniel was apparently well-liked by a particular subsection of the junior Cheerios, and went for the princely sum of eighty-five dollars. He was led off the risers, wearing a big smile, by two girls in Cheerios uniforms. He was a good first sale. 

The next person was a Cheerio herself, Celeste. She was a little more low-key than Daniel, but she also talked herself up. “I’m getting an A in trigonometry,” she said, “and I can teach you how to knit. And I love dogs, so if you have a dog, I’ll totally take it for walks.”

Apparently that was enough for Celeste to go for a hundred and ten dollars to a sophomore boy. He was too shy to take her hand, but Celeste went with him graciously.

Mercedes was about to make a casual comment about Celeste’s good people skills when she turned and saw Puck. He was staring at the risers, entirely silent, with an expression of complete and utter longing.  

“Puck,” she whispered. He looked over at her, startled out of his reverie. Then he chuckled, looking ordinary again, and Mercedes had to wonder if she’d exaggerated his reaction in her own mind.

“Noah Puckerman,” Santana called. Puck stood up and climbed the steps of the risers to mild applause. He was clearly not a favorite, not after his haircut, but he put on a brave face anyway. Santana sounded even more bored than she had earlier. “He plays football, sings and dances his little bald head off in Glee club, talks about video games for hours and makes the best goddamn food outside of Iron Chef. Who’ll be our first bidder?”

There was a brief pause. Then Mercedes raised her hand. “Ten.”

Santana’s eyes flashed. “The bidding opens at ten… and I’ll raise it to twenty.”

The audience murmured, sensing an unpleasant dynamic between the two of them. It stirred the pot enough to get other people bidding, which was probably what Santana had had in mind. Before long, his bid was up to seventy from Santana. 

“The Puckerman’s a force of nature,” Puck said, grinning confidently. 

“Freak of nature, more like,” came the comment from the middle of the crowd. Mercedes looked over to see Dave Karofsky, sneering to his buddies. Matt was there beside him, but he wasn’t laughing. Mercedes narrowed her eyes. Before she could open her mouth to bid again, she heard a cool tenor voice speak clearly from the back.

“One hundred.”

Puck’s face moved in quick succession, from startled to distressed, almost to the point of panic. “Kurt,” he protested.  

Mercedes looked back and forth between Puck and Kurt, at the confusion and anxiety on Puck’s face, and decided that wasn’t going to fly, for either of her friends.  

“One hundred ten.”

“We have a bid of one hundred ten,” said Santana. She looked like she’d bitten into a lime. “One hundred fifteen from me.”

Whatever Santana was playing at, Mercedes didn’t think it was going to be good for Puck, but she was running out of money.  _With the emergency fifty in my purse, I only have fifteen more, and it’s still more than I expected to spend._  But she wasn’t going to let him be abandoned to a girl who seemed intent on calling him names all afternoon. “One hundred twenty.”

“One twenty-five,” Santana countered. 

“One thirty,” Mercedes said, and held her breath. 

Puck sat there, not watching either of them, but keeping his eyes on Kurt. Mercedes watched Kurt’s frustration mount across the room, but in the end, he said nothing more.

“Fine. Sold for one hundred thirty dollars to Mercedes Jones.” Santana banged her gavel. This time the applause was greater, but Puck’s smile as he stood and came down the stairs to meet her was far more significant.

“Hey, sugar,” he purred, looking her up and down. She rolled her eyes.

“Hey.” She took his hand. “I’m not looking for that.”

“No, listen.” He made a winning smile. “I’ve got a proposition to make… I like a girl with curves. And you gotta admit, I’m easy on the eyes.”

“Okay, I’m going to ask you to stop, because I’m starting to get embarrassed for you. _”_

Now Puck looked confused. “So what _are_ you looking for? I want you to know you got a good deal here. We should join forces.”

“Let’s take it one step at a time.” She tried not to blush. “We need to talk to Kurt. I want to get clear about… some things.”

The auction went on while Kurt joined the two of them at the back of the gym. “I wasn’t going to let Santana take him,” he told her quietly.  

“Me either,” Mercedes said. “Honestly, Kurt, I would have let you have him, but…” She turned to Puck. “You didn’t look like you wanted that. Which doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Puck bit his lip, looking back and forth between Mercedes and Kurt. Finally, he muttered, “Kurt doesn’t have to pay money for me. He already owns me.”

“It’s just a fundraiser,” Kurt protested, but Puck shook his head.

“It’s  _not._ Not for me.”

“Yeah, I think I understand that now.” He sighed, taking Puck’s hand and placing it back in Mercedes. “Well, I guess you’ve got yourself a slave for the week. Noah, would you leave your truck at school and call me tonight after Mercedes dismisses you, so I can come pick you up? I think you’re going to need me.”

Puck nodded silently. Mercedes looked hard at Kurt.

“What’s going on here?”

“Noah can explain as much as he wants. Just… take care of him.” He was trying to tell her something with his eyes, but it was like he’d lost his voice or something, because he wasn’t saying anything more. She just nodded. Kurt pushed Noah toward her. “All right, sweetheart. We’ll talk later.”

Santana was glaring at them from the stage as they departed. Mercedes glared right back.

“What was she going to do with you, if she won?” she asked Puck.

“She likes my cooking. And I do this thing with my tongue that she really —“

“Oh my god,” Mercedes interrupted, holding up a hand, “you are  _not_  telling me details about you and Santana.”

He stopped talking and followed in silence, walking a step behind her all the way to her car. It was a little unnerving. Finally, she asked, “Can’t you just… come up here next to me?”

He avoided her eyes. “No,” he admitted. “I’d rather not.”

She watched, bemused, as he opened her door for her and closed it for her when she sat down. Then he came around to the passenger seat and sat down, waiting.

“Is this part of what Kurt was talking about?” He nodded. “Are you going to explain it to me?”

“I don’t know if I should,” he said.

She looked at him. Then, daring, she said, “But Kurt  _told_  you to.”

He turned red. Ducking his head, he whispered, “He’s not the only one I — I’m supposed to listen to.”

“But right now, you’re supposed to listen to me.”  

He nodded again, still not looking at her. She touched his arm, and he took a long, deep breath, and said nothing.  

“Puck, I’m your friend. I care about both you and Kurt. I’m not going to — to judge you for this. Whatever it is. And even though this was supposed to be a game, it looks like it’s a big deal for you. Can you at least explain enough so that I won’t make a mistake?”

They rode another two blocks in silence. When she reached her driveway, she parked and turned off the car, waiting. He was clearly wrestling with his words.

“I can be, like, your boyfriend,” he said at last. “I know how to do that. And I know how to be the badass. But the other stuff, when you tell me what to do, it’s going to make me… want to follow your rules.  _Need_  to follow your rules. And that’s… different for me, thinking about being like that away from my guys.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “You mean I should be careful? I shouldn’t tell you what to do?”

“No, I… I want you to.” He sounded so embarrassed. “But it’s hard to do anything else, when you do.”

“You  _want_  me to tell you what to do?” she asked again.

He nodded. “Yeah. I trust you.”

That made her just want to hug him again, and this time nobody was watching, so she did. She could feel him trembling.  

“You don’t have to freak out,” she said. “I’m not going to treat you bad.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“How about you come inside and we can do our homework? That would be kind of normal.”

He seemed willing to do that. She went into the kitchen, setting her things down at the table, and he hung back, looking around at the shelves and counters and pans hanging from hooks on the wall. She paused.

“Do you want to make us something to eat?”

Puck nodded, looking hopeful, and she nodded back. He moved to the refrigerator, beginning to sort through its contents. He set an onion on the counter, along with a container of mushrooms and some soft tortillas. “I can do that. Better than doing my homework, anyway.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to do that too.”  

The glum acceptance on his face made her want to laugh. How was this possible? Puck didn’t listen to  _anybody._  But she remembered the way he’d been at Kurt’s house, the night that Kurt had been stuffed into his locker. Puck had been completely frantic. He’d listened to Kurt — and he’d listened to Finn.  

He washed the mushrooms, chopped them efficiently and put them into a bowl to marinate with some vinegar and oil and spices before tackling the onion.

“You needed to check with Finn,” she said, “to see if he was okay with… me doing this.”

She watched him slow his movements, nod in response, and then return to peeling the onion. He was being so  _quiet._   

“Do you want to… I don’t know. Call him? So you can ask?”

“I don’t know,” Puck said restlessly. “Maybe Kurt was enough. I don’t  _know._ ”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble. But I also think Kurt wouldn’t tell you to do something you weren’t supposed to do.”  

“Yeah, except —“ Puck cut himself off, and let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to  _say.”_

 _You don’t get to decide that?_  she wanted to ask, but she had the feeling that the questions were just making it harder for Puck. He went looking in the pantry and came up with a bulb of garlic and a bottle of oil, and took down a pan from above the stove.  If she didn’t already trust Kurt, she might be wondering about Puck’s home environment, being so controlling.  

“How about we eat this snack… whatever it is you’re making —“

“Porcini vinaigrette quesadillas.”

She paused to blink. “Uh, yeah. That sounds delicious. And then you can call Finn.”

He looked down at the floor and mumbled something.

“What was that?”

“I said… and Max. The guy in California.”

“Oh. Yeah?” She knew his name wasn’t Max, even though Kurt was very clear that he wasn’t going to tell her what it really was. “You have to ask him too?”

“Yeah. I do.” This, at least, was definitive. “But he might not think it’s okay, because he doesn’t know you and trust you with me.”

“Trust  _me._ With you?”

Puck set the knife down on the counter with a clatter and covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know,” he moaned, muffled by his fingers. “This is so fucking embarrassing.”

“Puck, you’re not — we don’t have to do this. You can just go home.”

She was trying to be kind, to let him off the hook, but the expression of shame on his face made her wish she hadn’t said anything. He crossed his arms across his chest, not like a pouty kid, but like somebody trying to keep his insides from falling out.

“I’m really sorry,” he whimpered. “I want to do a good job. Please, let me keep trying.”

“You’re doing fine,” she said quickly, rising to her feet. “Just — it’s fine. I don’t know what I’m doing here, and I don’t want to do the wrong thing. Can’t you tell me what you need?”

 _“No.”_ The word came out angry, and he cringed, like his own emotions were offending him. “That’s the stupidest part. I can’t.”

“Okay. Okay.” She risked putting her hands on his shoulders, and let him breathe several long shaky breaths, in and out. “Puck, you’re my friend, and I’m not going to… I don’t know, hate you or throw you out or anything, no matter what you need. Can I start by giving you a hug?”

He nodded, letting her hug him. He cried a little bit, and while that didn’t surprise Mercedes, not after all of this, it did surprise her when he snuggled in closer, taking solace in her warmth. It was the closest she’d ever been to a boy, and it was a little distracting.  

“I think,” she said, “that eating something would help. And I want to get this homework done so I can help you with yours. No —“ She held up a hand when he pulled back, about to protest. “—  _I’m_  the one who bought you as my slave, and that means I get to do whatever I want. Okay?”

This was apparently the right thing to say. He relaxed into her arms, and nodded.

“Again with the silent,” she murmured. She stroked a hand over his velvety head. “Don’t you ever say  _yes?”_

He let out an uneasy chuckle. “Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“I mostly say  _yes, sir._  Only that doesn’t really apply here.”

 _Oh._  She didn’t stop petting him, because it seemed to be keeping him calm, but she had to compose her thoughts before she was able to go on.  

“If it’s okay with Finn,” she said carefully, “and… and Max, and Kurt, I think you could say  _yes, ma’am.”_

She felt a strange combination of hubris and hilarity, even to be suggesting such a thing to Noah Puckerman, but apparently  _that_  was the right thing to say, too. He let out his breath in a huff, almost a whimper, and folded smaller into her arms.

“Really?” he said, his voice hushed.  

“Yes. But I think you should ask first.”

“Okay.”

When he straightened up, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, and turned back to the stove, she added, “Why don’t you have a drink of water before you start that again.”

“Yeah, good idea.” 

Mercedes sat back at the table, trying to calm her own adrenaline, but in a moment, he brought her a glass of water, too. She looked up at him, surprised again, and smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling back. He looked much calmer. “Garlic in the quesadillas okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” she agreed. “Definitely okay. Italian food is my favorite, and it’s got to be full of garlic.”

“I could make you my arrabbiata sauce tomorrow.” He crushed the garlic deftly under the flat of his knife, shucking the paper into the trash can. “And fresh pasta. Burt and Carole got me this pasta maker, and it’s fucking awesome. But I guess your parents are going to make dinner tonight, huh?”

“I think it might be too late to tell them I’m not going to eat with them, yeah. But I could tell them you’re going to cook for me tomorrow. If you want.”

He laughed. It was like all the fear and anxiety had disappeared. “I think that would be up to you. I could make dessert, too. I mean, at some point this week, I’m going to have to have dinner with my dad, which kind of sucks, but I did say I would. So you don’t have to worry about having me around, if you’ve got other plans.”

“No, Puck. I don’t have any other plans. This is pretty much what I do. I go to Cheerios practice after Glee, and then I come home and do my homework. Sometimes Tina comes over. Kurt used to, but he’s mostly busy with you guys these days.” She tried not to sound too sad about this, but Puck noticed anyway.

“It’s going to get more busy, once my kid’s born.” He sliced the onion, chopping it quickly and dumping it into the sizzling olive oil before it could get to his eyes. “Kurt asked me to move back into his house.”

“Yeah?” Mercedes hoped she was paying enough attention to her math not to be screwing up the problem set too much. “How do you feel about that?”

“I didn’t want to. Which was stupid, but I think it was about not wanting to be in the way. Like, without pulling my weight?”

That made her smile. “Puck, last time I checked, you did more work around that house than anybody else. Just the cooking alone, but Kurt said you’ve been babysitting for Brad’s family, too.”

He was quiet again. For a minute, she thought maybe she’d said the wrong thing. But after he added the garlic to the pan, he turned back to her, looking resolute.  

“I’m going to work hard at being a good papa,” he told her. “And Kurt and Max told me the best way to do that is to get what I need. So I’m trying to let people give me that.” He made an effort to relax his shoulders. “Even if sometimes it makes me feel like a fucking loser to ask for it.”

“To ask for… what?”

He gave her a sidelong glance, almost amused. “To serve.”

“Oh,” she said.  

It was her turn to be silent, and he didn’t push her. She attempted to go back to her homework. The kitchen was full of good smells, which helped. After a little while, Puck started singing under his breath, something unfamiliar, but it sounded nice anyway. Mercedes realized she was feeling… good. Calm. No matter how bizarre this situation was turning out to be.

Eventually, Puck brought a plate over with two quesadillas and a little dish of salsa. “You want a fork?”

“No, this is fine.” She took a bite, huffing a little at the heat, and closed her eyes. “Oh my god.  _Puck.”_

The grin on his face was so sweet and boyish and delighted that she giggled. “Yeah?”

“ _Yeah,”_  she said emphatically, taking a bigger bite. “You need to make this for Kurt.”

As he stood there smiling while she ate, she started to wonder if it would be better to insist he sit down and eat with her, or if this was part of the enjoyment for him. Eventually he went back to clean up the kitchen. She set aside the second quesadilla and went on with her math.

“Would it be okay if I called Finn now?” he asked. He sounded so polite, but not in a fake way. She smiled again and nodded, and he sat down at the table across from her, already putting his phone to his ear, waiting for the other end to pick up. The longer he waited, the more restless he became.

“Puck,” she murmured. He startled. “It’s fine.”

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding, and settled right down.  

She almost didn’t believe it had worked so easily. But no, he’d been starting to freak out, and she’d said something, and he’d…  _listened._  To  _her._

“Well, whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s awesome,” Puck said into the phone. “You’re going to have to call Kurt for details about what’s up with me. I’ll fill him in, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He lowered the phone, and she asked, “Try Max? Or is it too early for California?”

“No, actually, he’s in New York. He’s getting ready for a thing tonight.”  

This was said casually enough that Mercedes decided not to pursue it. She was starting to think it just wasn’t fair to take advantage of Puck when he was like this. “Okay. I’m going to finish my math, so just ignore me.”

Puck dialed and listened again. This time, he wasn’t restless, and when he began talking, the smile on his face made it impossible for Mercedes not to smile into her own homework.  

“Hey,” he said softly. “I, um. I hope you saw the picture I texted you of my head. Tess’ idea. It feels soft. And I hope your thing is good. We’ll watch you on the, you know, later. I’m at Mercedes’ house because, um, there was this thing at school, this… slave auction for fundraising, and I guess I volunteered? So I’m her slave this week. And I’m, um.” He took a long breath. “I hope that’s okay with you. And that’s pretty much it, god, I hate the phone, I miss you so fucking much.”

He set the phone down on the table, letting his head fall onto his arms with a groan. Mercedes put a hand on his head. It really was soft.

“You okay?” she asked. He turned his head to the side so her hand ended up cupping his cheek, which was wet.

“I guess.”  

“I think we should go into the other room and sit down on the couch and watch some meaningless television.”

He didn’t object as she led him out with the leftover quesadilla, encouraging him to pick up his backpack and bring it too. When she sat down on the couch and patted the space next to her, he sat very close, not exactly on top of her, but definitely close enough to qualify as snuggling. After a moment, she put an arm around him and let him rest his head on her shoulder, reveling in the sensation of his scalp brushing her skin. He was warm and he smelled amazing, and the way his arm muscles looked when they were simply resting against her leg was like art.

“What are we going to watch?” he asked, still being that sweet, polite boy.

“Disney,” she decided, reaching under the table for a stack of DVDs. “My favorite comfort videos. I have a weakness for dogs, which I blame on my allergies saying I never get to have one. Oliver and Company, The Fox and the Hound or Lady and the Tramp?”

“Lady and the Tramp,” he said immediately. “The scene with the meatball. Finn has a thing for it.”

She squeezed his hand before placing the DVD in it. “I will try very hard not to use that as ammunition. Would you load this in the player?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said promptly, getting to his feet. When he returned, he looked a little apologetic. “Sorry, it just… came out.”

“I think it’s okay,” she said, trying not to hyperventilate. “Until we hear otherwise. Don’t feel bad about it.”

“Thank you.” He sat down again, just as close as before, and waited until she offered her arm to resume his position, snuggled up against her. He let out a little sigh of contentment when she dared to turn and kiss his head.

“Honestly, Puck,” she said as the movie began, “I can’t imagine Finn wouldn’t love this haircut. It’s great.”

“It’s not the haircut,” Puck said, taking a bite of the quesadilla. ‘It’s all the other stuff that goes along with the haircut. I got the mohawk last summer, when I was in Santa Fe, where I met the triad that taught me about all the stuff we do?” He shrugged. “So I don’t know, I suppose Finn could be happier now that it’s gone.”

“You seem… clearer. More honest. Or maybe it’s just that I’m getting to see you being yourself, today?”  

He looked up at her. “You don’t mind it?”

“You being yourself?” She pulled him a little closer. “It’s the best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music credits:  
> Puck sang "Hair" by Lady Gaga.  
> Blaine sang a mashup of "And So It Goes" by Billy Joel and "In Your Light" by Gotye, which are indeed in the same key.  
> Finn sang "More Than A Feeling" by Boston, with Carl and Adam (offstage).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby goes to the doctor. Burt and Finn go to a Reds game. Kurt spends some time with Puck. Toby sees Jake Puckerman dance. Kurt has an idea for Glee, talks to his dad about the American Dream and discovers what Sarah's been doing sixth period. Finn runs into someone unexpected at Carl's office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several things happened in this chapter that I did not expect. The last scene was a complete surprise, and I cried through most of it. As often happens in this ‘verse, I am guided by intuition and inspiration instead of reason, and it almost always works out, but the ride can be a rocky one. 
> 
> Spoilers for Laryngitis; no sex, a little discipline, and plenty of family drama. Enjoy! 
> 
> -amy

Toby decided the only thing worse than going to a new doctor was going to a new doctor in  _Ohio._   When he’d filled out the Carmel health insurance paperwork, they’d assigned him a primary care physician.  He figured he’d do the research to change it eventually; he seldom got sick, and it hardly mattered to him who was on the insurance card.   But now… 

He sighed, handing the voluminous new patient questionnaire back to the receptionist. She smiled perfunctorily. “Have a seat. The nurse will call you back shortly.”

It didn’t take long before he heard, “Mr. Grey?”  

“That’s me,” he replied, bouncing up from the uncomfortable waiting room couch. He waited while the nurse measured his height and weight and ushered him into the examination room, where she put a thermometer in his ear and took his blood pressure.  

She flipped through his clipboard. “So what brings you here today, Mr. Grey?”

“I need an HIV test.”

“Are we doing the full STD panel today?” Her tone hadn’t changed, but her face had gone from a friendly one to a polite mask.  

“No, I got tested for everything else last month, but since then I might have been exposed to the virus.”

“Exposed?”

He tried not to glare. “ _Exposed,_ yes.”

“As in…” She was already reaching for a pair of gloves.  

“As in I had sex with a man who’s since tested positive.” He managed to resist using the word  _fucking,_  but the way the nurse blanched, it apparently wasn’t enough self-control. “You really need gloves?”

“It’s a standard precaution. Do you know your date of exposure?”

He looked at the calendar on the wall. “Sixteen days ago.” Watching her carefully record the date of his indiscretion with Jon made him feel even worse than the gloves. “I know it’s too late for post-exposure prophylaxis, but he didn’t test positive until this week.”

“The doctor will be in shortly, and you can discuss your options with him.” She rose from the swivel chair and was out the door before he could say anything.  

Toby leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and sighing. This office was already making him uncomfortable. He missed Dr. Vaughn’s office in Denver, with its rainbow flag clearly marked “friendly.” He was guessing his chances of throwing a stone and hitting an office like that in Akron were slim.  

The doctor, an older gentleman wearing terribly-fitting pants, was at least more pleasant than the nurse had been. He shook Toby’s hand, sans gloves, and listened without expression to Toby’s account of his “exposure.”  

“You’re too early for a standard HIV test,” he told Toby. “The antibodies won’t likely be evident for another couple weeks.” 

“I’d read about an early test —“ Toby began, but the doctor shook his head.

“It’s only in experimental trials, and it’s not covered by insurance. You’d be better off waiting for another week and scheduling another appointment. The receptionist can help you with that.” He reviewed the chart again. “Now, it looks like you’re here for an initial intake appointment? Shall we go ahead and do the physical exam?”

“That’s okay.” Toby stood, waving the old doctor away. “I think I’ll — just reschedule.”

He wasn’t going to reschedule. When the receptionist asked him when he’d like to come in again, he told some fib about needing to check his calendar and said he’d call back. He went outside, climbed into his car and sat there, staring at the windshield.  

God, he missed Will. More than his doctor, even more than Denver or anything there, he missed having Will with him in his day-to-day life. They’d barely spoken in two weeks, and everything had been terse and coated with distrust. It was exhausting, and Toby was  _so_  ready to be done with it — and now he had  _this,_  hanging over their heads, ready to drive a bigger wedge between them.  

He rested his head on the steering wheel.  _No sex for a month_  was a pretty minimal price to pay for keeping Will healthy, but at the moment, it felt like they  _needed_  that. Assuming Will would even want it anymore, once he heard what Toby was dealing with.

But right now, he had something else to take care of. Toby pulled his phone out of his pocket, fiddling with it and cursing until he found the number of the woman who ran the Dayton PFLAG group. He wasn’t sure if he’d reach her in the middle of the morning on a Monday, but Chris answered.  

_“Well, hello there,”_  she said, sounding cheerful.  _“If it isn’t the pretty convincing dance teacher. To what do I owe this pleasure? Aren’t you supposed to be working?”_

“It’s Carmel’s spring break,” he said. “And I think you’re supposed to be working too, darlin’.”

_“Ah, the freewheeling life of a therapist. Today I don’t have a client until eleven-thirty.”_

“I miss not having classes in the morning,” Toby sighed. “But this is actually a professional call, kind of. I’m looking for a queer-friendly doctor in the Akron area. I’d be willing to drive a while toward Cleveland or Columbus or Dayton if I have to. Just — somebody who won’t look at me like I committed a mortal sin when I say I sleep with men? I figured you’d know people.”

_“Mmm. Oh, I know people, all right. I can definitely hook you up with a good family practice doc. Gender preference?”_

“I really don’t care.”

_“That’s not what I heard.”_  She was smiling.  _“Too bad for me. But you’re so taken.”_

“Sadly, we’re on hiatus for indiscretions. We’ll see if he ever forgives me for this one.”

_“Don’t taunt me, Toby. I’ve been single for long enough that I might try to persuade you to try on my team’s uniform, just for kicks.”_

He couldn’t help but smile back. Her flirting was so much more pleasant than Shelby’s. “Yeah, sorry. On the Kinsey scale, I’ve always stayed pretty high. But that does not preclude drinks and dinner, if you don’t mind me whining a little about my fiance.”

_“I’m a total whine snob,”_ she declared, making him groan.  _“But while I have you on the phone… have you given any more thought to taking the dance student I told you about?”_

Toby blinked. “It had actually slipped my mind, but… I think I’m leaning toward yes. Sure thing, I can give him a call. What was his name again?”

_“Jacob. His mother’s Tanisha. I’ll text you her number, along with my doctor references. She’s not a crazy theater mom, thank god. Single mother, working as a cop in Mansfield. Jacob’s sweet and talented, but he’s dealing with some unfortunate middle school assholes who are sure a boy shouldn’t be dancing ballet. He could use a male teacher.”_

“I ain’t particularly masculine, darlin’. You think he wouldn’t be put off by that?”

_“Well, I can tell you that I started seeing him in therapy back when I was only a year into taking hormones. I hadn’t had any facial feminization surgery yet, and I was still shaving my face every day. He dealt with that just fine. Without betraying any confidences, I can say I haven’t managed to throw anything at him that fazed him yet. I think he can handle your big bad gay self. Are we going to see you and Wade this month at PFLAG?”_

“I’m guessing yes to that, too. Thanks, Chris. I’ll call Jacob’s mom and set up a visit.” His mind was already racing — the house wasn’t a total wreck, but he didn’t really have an adequate rehearsal space set up yet. The second half of the garage would be perfect for a studio, if he could find the money for flooring… it would be a long drive to Akron just to use the studio at school. Maybe there was something local in Jacob’s town. “I’ll talk to you soon?”

_“I’m holding you to that drink, Toby. Bye.”_

He sat there looking at his phone for a long minute before putting it away. It wasn’t a good time to call Will, no matter how much he might want to. This wasn’t something that could be handled over the phone. He was going to have to give him the news in person, and soon.  

* * *

 

It wasn’t a very good baseball game, but the fact that Burt had bought him the tickets for his birthday made Finn feel good enough that it didn’t matter. Driving down to Cincinnati in the middle of the school day, taking a seat in the Great American Ball Park, watching them play their pre-season exhibition game: it all felt very much like the kind of thing he might have done with his dad, if he’d had one. Burt kept apologizing to him for the quality of the Reds’ playing and fielding, but Finn told him not to worry.

“You did this with your dad?” he asked Burt, when they bought an actual hot dog from an actual vendor, walking through the sparsely-populated stadium. Burt nodded.

“I was a baseball nut, maybe even more than he was. We went to games together all through high school. He didn’t have a lot of money, you know, but what he did, he wanted to give to me and my mom.” He smiled, huffing into his hands and chafing them to keep them warm. “We’ll come back in the spring, when the season starts for real.”

“He was a mechanic too?”

“Yeah. He worked for Gene Crawford in Wapakoneta. But when my dad died, he left me enough money to start my own shop.”

Finn settled into his seat and took another bite of his dog. “I don’t think Kurt wants to do that.”

“Be a mechanic?” Burt grinned at the idea. “No. Not that he’s not a damn good one. But he’s got his own passions. I’ll be happy knowing he’s capable of fixing what needs fixing in his own car, and… anybody else’s that comes along.” He glanced at Finn, then back to the game. “Puck’s been helping out in the shop. You could do that, if you wanted.”

“Yeah, maybe? I might have more time over the summer.” Finn wasn’t sure how to say to Burt  _I have too many commitments already_ , considering he was the one who kept adding to them. Before, it had all been activities: football, basketball, Glee. But now it was all  _people —_ and there was one more on her way. He gave a half-shrug. “I don’t really know what to expect about this summer, actually.”

Burt nodded understanding. “Babies don’t start out being so much work, but they need a lot of attention. I think with so many adults around, it’ll be easier, but I wouldn’t expect easy.”

“I want to help,” Finn said slowly, “but I don’t know much about… babies.” He was about to say  _being a dad,_  but that felt like more than he was ready to claim here. 

“You learn on the job. They teach you what you need to know. And it’s a damn good thing they’re cute, because otherwise we’d never put up with them. We’d have died out as a species long ago.”

Finn laughed uncertainly. “I’ll tell you now, I’m pretty scared. Like, maybe I’ll do it wrong.”

“What about Puck?” Burt was watching him, but his eyes were kind. “Do you think he might do it wrong?”

“I don’t know? Kurt says he’s great with Brad’s kids. And I’ve seen him take care of Sarah since before we were — I mean, back when  _we_  were kids.” Finn felt himself blush. It was still a little embarrassing to be talking to his boyfriend’s dad about his  _other_  boyfriend, even he was going to be Puck’s foster dad. And then thinking about Puck when he was a kid made him think about how Puck had shaved his head, and… he wasn’t going to go there with Burt.

Finn went on, trying to verbalize his fears, the way Kurt had encouraged him to do. “It’s more like… I know how awful Puck’s dad was to him? And I just have to wonder, how do you learn how to be a good dad, if your own dad sucks so much? You might think you know how to be a good parent, that you want to fix things, do them differently from the way your parents do them, but…”

“… but in the end, you end up making mistakes, just like they did.”  

Finn nodded, even though that wasn’t quite what he was going to say. “And then I think about my own dad, and all the stories I told myself about him when I was growing up, when really,  _I_  didn’t have a dad either.”

Burt nodded too. “You did have one thing most people never have, though.”

“Um…” Finn glanced at him. “You mean my mom’s girlfriend?”

Burt opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it again.  

“I’m sorry,” Finn said immediately, but Burt shook his head.

“No, no, it’s fine. I was referring to your mom, herself. But… yeah, I guess you had that too. Had her, when you were a baby.” He let out a little embarrassed chuckle. “It’s just going to take some getting used to.  I’m really not upset by it. In some ways it’s easier to imagine…  _that,_  instead of your mom with some other guy.”

“Yeah, she’s dated other guys, but none of them were all that great. There was one, when I was ten. Darren.  I don’t know, he was kind of a singer, and he encouraged me to keep singing? But he turned out to be a jerk.  Ran off with a girl from the Pick’N’Save.”

“I think I’d have a hard time believing anybody was good enough for your mom.”

Finn nudged Burt’s shoulder. “I think  _you_ might be.”

“Yeah?” Burt grinned. “Well, I promise I won’t run off with some girl from the Pick’N’Save.”

“Seriously. I haven’t seen her this happy, pretty much ever.”

Burt was quiet for a while, watching the Reds change up in preparation for the next inning.  

“She loves you a lot, you know,” Burt said eventually.

Finn nodded. “Yeah. I know that. And I want to make her proud of me.”

“Yeah, you do that a lot. But sometimes, when you’re a parent, you have to choose between stuff for yourself and stuff for your kid? And that’s hard to do. It’s hard to know what’s more important, sometimes.”

It gave him a guilty twinge to hear Burt say that. “Is it like… when we went to California, they did that thing where the flight attendant said, in an emergency, anybody traveling with a small kid should put on their own oxygen mask first, before helping the kid?”

“Yeah. That’s what they tell you. Only when you see your kid gasping for air — even metaphorical air — it’s almost impossible not to help them first. You’d give them your last breath, if you thought it would help.”

Finn thought he might have said something about Puck, or maybe even Blaine, because he was pretty sure he understood what Burt was saying. But the stadium erupted into excitement around them, and Finn rose with Burt and the rest of the crowd, clustering toward the trajectory of the foul ball as it rushed toward them.  

“Finn,” Burt called, his excitement rising, “just — can you grab it — yeah, like that — !”

It had been a year or more since Finn had worn a softball mitt, but he reached out automatically with his left hand, above Burt’s head, and snagged the ball out of the air. The sparse crowd around him burst into applause. Burt turned toward him with shining eyes.

“That was  _something,_ ” he cried, clapping Finn on the back. “Nice catch, buddy. You can thank Jonny Gomes for popping that ball right to us. I’m sure his coach won’t be so thrilled, but you got a ball out of it.” He gestured at the wall of the stadium, where Gomes was trotting toward them, and tucked a Sharpie into Finn’s hand. Finn was almost more surprised by the Sharpie than he was by the ball he’d caught, but Burt pushed him toward the aisle, adding, “You never go to a baseball game without a marker, unless you want to tempt fate.”

Finn descended the cement steps and leaned way over the edge into the stadium, handing the ball and the Sharpie to Gomes, who grinned as he scribbled his name across the surface of the leather.  

“Nice catch,” he said. “You and your dad had a lucky day, huh?”

“Something like that,” Finn agreed. “Thanks.”

They were halfway home from Cincinnati when Finn got the call from Rachel. He put the phone to his ear.  “Hey?”

_“Finn,”_  she croaked.  _“Please don’t be angry at me for telling on you guys for not singing in Glee. I was just feeling so overwhelmed, I didn’t know what else to do.”_

He sighed. “It’s okay.” After the weekend he’d had, and now that Jesse was on vacation, he’d felt ready to sing his heart out again, but he didn’t think he could tell her that. “Mr. Schue was right. Glee is only as strong as its weakest link. Even if you’re the star, we should all be singing.”

_“Well, I wanted to tell you… listening to the recordings Lauren made when she bugged the choir room?”_ She sounded embarrassed.  _“I overheard more than just you not singing.”_

“Like… what?”

_“Well, for one thing, Puck and Kurt aren’t all that subtle with the flirting when they don’t think anybody’s listening, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”_  She dropped her voice.  _“You were saying something about… somebody who wanted you to wear something? And Puck and Kurt taking you home to get you… ready.”_

Finn gulped. “Uh — was this on my birthday?”

_“Maybe? Was this about… the boy you’re seeing in another town?”_  She sounded wistful.

He wasn’t going to tell her anything about Carl  _or_  Blaine, not even to clarify her confusion. “Why do you even care?”

_“I don’t,”_  she said quickly.  _“I mean, not inordinately. I want you to be happy. I guess I —“_  She sighed.  _“I was… jealous. Hearing the way they were taking care of you. I wish I had somebody to do that.”_

Finn grinned despite himself. Burt looked over at him curiously, but said nothing.

“You’re not going to ask Jesse?”

_“Very funny. He’s barely spoken to me since Run Joey Run. And even if he were talking to me, he’s on spring break this week, in San Diego with his friends from Vocal Adrenaline. I’m not going to ask him to take care of me. Anyway, I’m sure it’s just because I’m feeling so tired lately. I hate feeling like this.”_  This last was said in a particularly grumpy voice. Finn stifled his laugh.

“You don’t actually want anyone to take care of you.”

_“Maybe I do.”_  She sounded — well, if Rachel had been anyone other than  _Rachel,_  Finn would have said she was flirting. In any case, the sort of uncertain, vulnerable tone was pushing all of his buttons.  

He made himself put a little steel into his words. “Go to bed, Rachel.”

_“I was just about to do that. Good night, Finn. I’ll see you tomorrow — ready to sing? Or at least hear my solo?”_

“You bet.”  

Burt was clearly biting his tongue on several questions when Finn hung up, so Finn attempted to save him the trouble of asking. “Rachel and I have this on-again, off-again thing. She was dating a boy… Jesse.”

“The one you did the sing-off with,” Burt supplied. “Sarah made you the cake.”

“Yeah, that one. He’s… well. He’s not good for her.” Finn wasn’t going to tell Burt about Jesse’s parentage. “I talked him into breaking up with her. It’s a slow process, though. Rachel’s convinced they’re in love.”

“And now what does she want?”

Finn looked at the signed ball he held in his hands. “I don’t really know, actually. She already told me she didn’t want to date me as long as I was seeing other people, so that’s not it.”

“Maybe she just needs a friend.”

“I’m trying. Rachel’s not so easy to be friends with.”

But he thought about it. When Burt dropped him off at his house just before midnight, he sent her a brief text, hoping it wouldn’t wake her up:  _If you need somebody, I’m here, okay?_  He felt mostly good when he received no response.

It wasn’t until he sent that text that he realized Puck had called him earlier and left a message. He listened to it while he brushed his teeth:  _“Well, whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s awesome. You’re going to have to call Kurt for details about what’s up with me. I’ll fill him in, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”_

That was cryptic enough that he wondered if he  _should_  call Kurt, even thought it was so late. Eventually he decided it was better not to worry. Whatever it was, he’d find out tomorrow.  

* * *

 

Mercedes was waiting with Puck when Kurt came to pick him up before dinner on Monday. He came into the foyer, looking from one to the other. “How was your evening, sweetheart?”

“It was great.” Puck seemed calm and content. When Mercedes reached over and took his hand, Puck smiled, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. That made Mercedes blush. It was not as weird as Kurt had expected it to be.

She placed Puck’s hand in Kurt’s, like she was handing over a precious treasure.  _And she is,_  Kurt thought. He was hyper-aware of Mercedes’ parents in the other room, preparing dinner, but he didn’t let go of Puck’s hand.

“I have a lot of questions,” said Mercedes, “but I think this is going to be fine. Puck’s mine all week, during daylight hours. And then…” She gestured at Kurt. “He’s yours. All of yours.”

“Yes,” Kurt said firmly. “I can answer whatever questions you have when we have a little privacy. I’m going to take him home now.”

The first thing Kurt did, when he got Puck inside the Navigator and the conveniently tinted windows, was to kiss him until he moaned. He didn’t hesitate to run his hands all over the slippery silky surface of Puck’s head, feeling him respond.  

“Mine,” Kurt whispered. “My boy, tonight.”

Puck let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, yes.”

He turned on the Navigator. “I think I’d rather leave your truck at school tonight and just bring you with me to school tomorrow.”

“Um.” Puck looked embarrassed. “Mercedes said she would pick me up.”

“Perfect,” Kurt said, keeping his voice steady. He turned into traffic and smiled. “It’s not going to be a problem. Now… do you want to tell me how it was?”

“It was…” Puck’s eyes were somewhere else while he paused. “Warm. Soft. You know, how girls are.”

He didn’t change the pace of his breathing, but he felt his heart pounding. “Did you… did the two of you…  _do_  anything?”

“She didn’t want that. She was okay with me sitting close. I think she’s lonely.” His voice was soft. “It felt good to give her what she wanted. I made her something to eat. And…”

“And?”

“I… she let me call her  _ma’am._ ” Now his face was a dusky red. “I tried to call Finn and Adam and ask permission but they were both busy, and it just came out. She said it was okay.” He looked over at Kurt.  _“Is_ it okay?”

“You know I’m not going to stand in your way when you want something, Noah. And Mercedes is my friend. I trust her, just like I trust you. If she thinks it’s okay, it’s okay with me.”  

“That’s what I thought. I just wanted to check. And Finn didn’t call back, and Adam’s doing that concert tonight in New York — IHeartRadio, whatever the fuck that is — so I didn’t think he’d be around…” Puck was getting more and more worked up, his serenity slipping away.  

“Noah,” Kurt said softly. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

He nodded. “Yeah. That’s what she said too. I felt like I was doing the right thing.”

Kurt held Puck’s hand on the way to his apartment, feeling its strength. “How  _are_  girls, anyway?”

Puck laughed in surprise. “You really want to know?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “I think about the way it was for Finn, loving Quinn the way he did, and his feelings for Rachel. And Santana and Britt. I’m curious.”

“Well, what are you curious about?”

Kurt laughed too. “I think… if it’s as unpleasant as I think it would be? Because…” He made a face. “Yuck.”

“No, you definitely don’t want to do something if you think it would be  _yuck.”_  Puck looked amused, and a little more calm, which was what Kurt had been hoping for. “I think girls are pretty  _yum_ ,but it’s never been the way it is with you guys.” 

He turned off the car. “Even with Daphne and Nicole?”

“I’ve thought about that a lot. It’s hard to know how I feel anymore, this far away. We haven’t talked in weeks.” Puck unlocked the door, holding it open for Kurt. “Maybe I loved the idea of them more than the reality. Like, being in a foursome like that, it was — perfect.”  

The way he smiled at Kurt, that made him blush, too, knowing exactly what Puck was remembering about their weekend at Tessera. “So once you had that, you wanted more of that.”

“No,” said Puck, shaking his head. He reached out and drew Kurt close, one step above him on the stairs, resting his cheek on Kurt’s chest. “Once I had that, I wasn’t going to be happy without it.”

“I’m sorry to say, Noah,” said Kurt, kissing his bare head, “that we’re not a foursome.”

“I don’t mean the number. I mean the way it was, all of us together like that. Everybody loving everybody, wanting everybody. Fucking  _everybody._ ”  

Puck’s enthusiasm was hard to resist. Kurt bent down and claimed his mouth again, kissing him hard enough to bruise. Then he pulled him behind him the rest of the way up the stairs.  

“You can have that, sweetheart,” he assured him. “Finn and I will make sure of it.”

It wasn’t until much, much later, stretched out on Puck’s bed, that Kurt brought up another question that had bothered him. When Puck was wearing his collar, safe under Kurt’s hands, it was much easier to ask things like that. “What is it that attracts you to Finn?”

Puck, sated and lazy, nuzzled into Kurt’s neck playfully. “You mean besides his big dick?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Besides that.”

“I think it’s his enthusiasm for everything? Like, he’s really intense. About football, about Glee. About you. It’s really hard not to get caught up in that.”

Kurt stroked his bare skin. “You want to please him. You want him to be proud of you.”

“Yeah, of course. But he’s also just  _hot._ ” His mouth spread in a smile. “Watching him and Carl sing that Boston song at Tessera, the way he was looking at everybody. I bet every guy in that room wanted to fuck him.”

“I don’t think everybody has to want that,” Kurt said, smiling in return. “But it sounds like  _you_  did.”

“Yeah,” he said, with rich satisfaction. “Fuck, yeah, I did. I’ve always wanted that. And now I get to, and that’s the best thing.”

Kurt hesitated. “Is it because he’s… masculine? Because he really is, isn’t he.”

“Well, yeah, I like that.” Puck sounded confused. “He’s got great shoulders? And yeah, maybe he’s a little klutzy, but so what?”

“I worry, sometimes,” said Kurt carefully, “that… maybe I can’t pull off masculine. And that might hurt me, theatrically.”

Now Puck laughed. He leaned in, placing a very hot, dirty kiss on Kurt’s mouth. “Baby… first of all, that’s bullshit. You could totally pull off masculine if you wanted to. And second, why would you _want_  to? When you’re so goddamn hot being you?”

Kurt knew he was blushing, but he didn’t really care. “That was exactly the right answer, sweetheart. Thank you for inflating my ego back to its usual proportions.”

“Yeah, that’s totally my job.” Puck rested his head on Kurt’s chest. “If you’re ever looking for somebody to tell you or anybody else how fucking perfect you are, you can come to me.”

* * *

 

So the next day at school, when Sue ambushed him with commentary about how awful he was, Kurt wasn’t hurt; he was annoyed. He managed to grab Finn and drag him up to their attic room before lunch to complain about it.  

“First of all, it’s none of her business who I’ve kissed,” he said. Finn had managed to calm him down by wrapping him up tight in his arms and legs and holding him on top of him on the salvaged mattress, and his hand was right over the secret tattoo on Kurt’s chest. Kurt’s mother’s old quilt kept them warm enough, even though the room didn’t have the best insulation. “I wasn’t going to tell her that I’ve done a lot more than kiss boys. And second, what right does she have to reduce me to the sum parts of my sexual orientation? I’m so much more than a gay boy who likes show tunes.”

“Damn right,” Finn agreed, with what Kurt thought was an appropriate amount of outrage.  

“So what she said got me thinking. Mr. Schue wants us to sing something that represents ourselves — that gives us our voice, right? Well, I need to go outside my usual box. Push the envelope a little.” He turned his head toward Finn’s cheek. “Choose something radically different from the kind of thing I usually would sing.”

“Like what?”

Kurt thought. “We’ve been reading about the Great Depression in history. It reminded me of the kind of thing my dad loves to listen to, Bruce Springsteen and John Mellencamp and all that. Do you… do you think I could pull that off?”

“Of course you could.” Finn was grinning, his face alight with admiration. “You could even change your look completely — like a costume, but kind of in reverse. I bet your dad would help you with that.”

“A costume in reverse. I like that.” Kurt sat up, leaning on Finn’s chest as he thought. “It would simplify things, wouldn’t it? So people were paying attention to my message, my words, instead of my look.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt,” Finn said mournfully. “You’re never going to be able to be anything other than gorgeous, no matter what you do.”

That made Kurt blush so hard he had to hide his face in Finn’s shirt. Finn patted him and consoled him until he was ready to come out again. 

“Noah gave me a lot of encouragement last night. I think this slave situation with Mercedes is really helping him.” He shook his head in amazement. “I kind of can’t believe she’s going along with it, but she said Noah could call her  _ma’am._  And I don’t think Noah asked; she just offered. He was really worried you and Adam were going to be upset with him.”

“I’m not upset.” Finn looked thoughtful. “That must have been what the cryptic voice mail was about. I got home so late from the game with your dad, I didn’t want to bother him. Mercedes? Really?”

“Well, you know, it’s just a fundraiser for the Cheerios, but he’s taking it to heart. I think it just showed me how much Noah could use… what we said he could use. This kind of control, in his home.” Kurt settled in closer. “He seemed so  _happy,_  Finn. I haven’t seen him like that in a long time. I really think we could give him that, if we tried.”

Finn was silent, lost in thought. “I think… if Puck were there?” He shook his head, and corrected, “If  _Noah_  were there, at the house, then… I should be, too.”

Kurt felt his mouth go dry. “Finn.”

“I know. But you know how he said Tess told him to make a list of pros and cons to moving back in with you? I started thinking about it too. My own list of pros and cons. And this thing, this one thing… I think it might be important enough that I should be there. I  _should_  be. Even if it’s too crowded and it drives me crazy sometimes. This is that difference between what I want and what I need, Kurt.”

Kurt had no words. He just launched himself at Finn, hugging him as tight as he could. Finn laughed, barely moved by Kurt’s impact, and held him right back.

“Baby,” he said softly. “I can’t promise this is going to be easy.”

“No.” Kurt was crying against his neck. “No, I know, and… I don’t care, god, I just — the thought of the two of you, back in my house again…”

Finn kissed his cheek. “I’m going to put that in the  _pro_  column.”  

* * *

 

It wasn’t a short drive to Mansfield, but compared to how long it took Toby to drive from Akron to Lima, it felt like a cakewalk. He figured, if things looked good for teaching Jacob, that he could easily factor the cost of transportation into the price of lessons once a week.

Jacob’s house was at the end of a cul-de-sac on a dirt road, backing up to a cove of beech trees. He could see a rope swing hanging from an enormous tree in the side yard, suspended over a long stretch of meadow, still covered with patches of February snow. There was an orange cat in the front yard, attempting to hide in the matted grass, and as Toby walked toward the house, he pounced on Toby’s shoes.

“Don’t mind him,” he heard, and looked up to see a young woman striding through the yard toward him, shading her eyes with her hand. Her coffe-brown hair, almost the same shade as her skin, was held back with a barrette. “You’re not going to scare Longfellow if you give him a little kick.”

“Hey, I don’t have any need to kick a cat. He’s welcome to attack my toes, long as I ain’t dancing.” He held out a hand, shaking hers. “Tanisha? You’re Jacob’s mother. I realized I didn’t even have your last name.”

“Roth. But Jacob’s is Puckerman, after his dad.”

Toby’s hand faltered, but he renewed his smile.  _Well, ain’t that a kick in the pants. What’re the chances of that being a coincidence?_  He decided he would not ask. Not yet. 

Tanisha was already beckoning him toward the house. “Jacob’s in the basement. Can I get you a beer?”

Toby shook his head, ducking through the front door after her. “Can’t imagine it’d be a very professional image I’d project, havin’ a beer before noon on a Tuesday.”

She reached into the fridge and handed him a Bud Light. “Mr. Grey, this is rural Ohio. You can do anything you damn well please, and even the cops drink socially at lunch. I’m one of them, so I can tell you that for sure.  _And_  it’s spring break.”  

“Call me Toby, please,” he said. “I can barely get my students to call me Mr. Grey.” He decided not to argue the beer any more, and honestly, the amount of alcohol that was in a light beer wasn’t about to interfere with his driving. He took a drink. “Tell me a little about Jacob.”

Tanisha gave him a smile, opening her own beer and pushing open the door to the basement. “I think I’d rather let Jacob’s actions speak for themselves. I love my son with all my heart, Mr. — Toby. It’s not his fault he’s got a little too much of his dad in him. But if anyone’s got a chance of getting out of Ohio on his talent, it’s Jacob.”

Toby nodded. “As it happens, I know a whole bunch of kids who fit that description.”

As they descended the staircase to the basement, Toby could see a makeshift barre had been affixed to the cement block wall. The floor was cheap linoleum, rolled out over concrete, but Toby could see a pair of worn ballet slippers abandoned on the stairs, next to an equally worn pair of jazz shoes. The music coming from the player on the card table wasn’t familiar, but it provided a good rhythm, and the beautiful boy in the center of the room was using it for all it was worth. He was doing a dynamic hip-hop routine that would have impressed any of Toby’s colleagues in Denver, utilizing some very unorthodox technique, but plenty of enthusiasm.

_He’s Mike Chang, four years younger,_  he marveled.

Toby paused on the steps to watch him over the railing. Eventually he sat down right where he was, not wanting to interfere with the boy’s routine. Tanisha smiled, taking her own seat higher up on the steps, but still far enough down that she could watch too.

When the music came to a crashing conclusion, Tanisha said, “Heads up, Jake. This is Mr. Grey, the dance instructor Chris told us about.”

Toby called, “That wasn’t half bad.”

Jake grabbed a towel from the floor, wiping his head free of sweat and giving Toby a suspicious glare. “Better than half bad.”

“Be polite,” Tanisha warned.

Toby chuckled. “Who says?”

“Six thousand hits on Youtube. And me.” He owned the floor, keeping his chin up and moving his slender legs in wide sweeps. Toby smiled, watching him effortlessly switch gears into ballet. He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to have to ask if Jake Puckerman was related to Noah Puckerman. That bravado was hard to mistake.  

“Looks like you’ve been studying the Vaganova Academy videos online.”

Jake shrugged. “It’s not like there are all that many ballet teachers in Mansfield, not ones who are any  _good_. I do the drill, I make the cut, I get viewers. You got another way for me to get better? I’m all ears.”

“Sure, I do. Me.” Toby stood up and came around the edge of the railing, doing a graceful  _plie_  and  _port de bras._ Jake scoffed, his lip curling a little, but he was watching. “You got anything a little less jarring than that… what was it?”

“Rihanna.” He fiddled with his music player. “I guess?”

“My ancient ears can’t handle such a ruckus,” he moaned, and had the pleasure of seeing the corner of Jake’s mouth twitch. “Don’t you have any showtunes on there?”

Jake tossed Toby the player, then gestured gracefully to the floor, backing up to stand against the barre. “Show me what you got.”

And Jake watched, the whole time. Toby worked his way through one of the tap routines from  _Singing in the Rain._  By the end, Jake was smiling, asking insightful questions, and demanding to see it again — and again, and again. Toby was red-faced and a little worn out after a half hour, but Jake was imitating him with such remarkable accuracy that he didn’t want to stop.

“You need a little ventilation down here, my friend,” Toby gasped. Jake shrugged.

“At least here I can dance and nobody will bother me.”

He nodded. “You got people botherin’ you?”

“Pretty much everybody. Chris says I have to find my tribe, but kids in this town…” He sounded regretful, and a little pissed. “They don’t get it.”

When Toby and Jake heard Tanisha call from upstairs, “Take a break, guys,” they mounted the stairs to emerge into the kitchen. They sat down and helped themselves to the water and nachos and graham crackers waiting for them.

“Thanks, mom,” Jake mumbled, his mouth full.  

Toby made eye contact with Tanisha, nodding, and she nodded back before disappearing again. He could sense that she was nearby, but obviously giving them space to talk. That impressed him more than anything.  

“Jake, how old are you?” Toby asked.  

Jake swallowed his mouthful of chips. “I’ll be thirteen next month.”

“Seventh grade, Chris said. And how long have you lived here?”

“Since fifth grade. Mom got this job after she finished advanced training at the police academy in Columbus. She’s captain of police services for the city.” He looked at the table. “It’s a good opportunity.”

“You sound like a grown-up,” Toby said, grinning.

“Yeah, well, I guess I figure… my mom and me, it’s just us, right? She does her part, I do mine. I can’t be mad at her for moving where she can get a job.”

“Except sometimes you are.”

Jake scowled. “Sometimes,” he admitted after a minute.

“I’m going to be honest with you. You’ve got some pretty good moves, Jake. I’m sure you know that. You’re talented and fit and you’ve got a great eye, and you obviously love to dance. What you need is some solid grounding in technique.” Toby looked seriously at him. “You’ve been doing it your own way for a long time. You think you might be ready to try it somebody else’s way?”

“I want to do it the  _right_  way,” Jake said, just as seriously.  

When Tanisha reappeared, Jake retreated to the basement again. She raised a hopeful eyebrow at Toby, and he smiled. “You weren’t kidding about his talent. It sounds like he’s having trouble making friends.”

“Most of his friends are online,” she said, clearing the table. “I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t wish he got along better with the kids at school, but they’re cruel enough about him being biracial. I don’t think I can expect them to accept his dancing. So, yeah, he’s been dealing with some anger, but the therapy with Chris is helping, and so is the online discussion group she moderates for kids like him. She’s really been a miracle worker.”  

“Well, I can’t promise miracles, myself,” Toby said. “But I suspect it’s gonna be good for Jake to have a teacher, even if we do butt heads occasionally. Let’s figure out a schedule.”

They settled on four private lessons, once a week for a month. Then Tanisha paused, looking uncomfortable. “I haven’t asked about cost because I didn’t want it to sound like that was the important part. Do you have an amount in mind? I can’t offer much, but I can pay more once my bonus comes through for spring…”

“Let’s call it a sliding scale, then. He’ll be my only student since I moved to Ohio, but if it’s beneficial to him, I’m confident we can work it out.” He shook Tanisha’s hand. “And thanks, for having me into your home.”

“No, thank  _you,”_  she said sincerely. “I really hope this does work out.”

Toby saw Longfellow the orange cat again on his way to the car, and he stopped to crouch down and scratch its neck.  

“You’re a lonely little fella, ain’t you?” he murmured. “Findin’ your way in the middle of nowhere.”

It felt almost too familiar. Toby was going to have to watch his assumptions that Jake was anything like he was at that age, but there were enough similarities that Toby felt an immediate responsibility toward him. 

“Being alone sucks,” he said aloud.

As he got back in his car, he took out his phone and dialed the number he’d been avoiding all week. “Will,” he said. “It’s my spring break this week. I’m gonna come out to Lima tomorrow. You and me, we’ve got some talkin’ to do.”

* * *

 

While Finn took Rachel to the doctor’s office to get her throat examined, and Puck went home with Mercedes, Kurt went right back to his house after school and tried on the outfit he’d envisioned, complete with one of his dad’s flannel shirts. He couldn’t quite bring himself to wear a baseball cap, but his own black cap completed the ensemble nicely. He could almost feel the inspiration coursing through his red American blood as he sang Mellencamp’s lyrics: 

_Hey baby, its you, come on, girl, now, its you_

_Sink your teeth right through my bones, baby_

_Let's see what we can do, come on and make it up_

_Hurt so good_

_Come on baby, make it hurt so good_

_Sometimes love don't feel like it should_

_You make it hurt so good_

 

He wasn’t quite sure he could sing that one in front of Glee club, even if the assignment was supposed to be about a song that represented who he was. Some things were still too  _private_  to talk about at school. But he  _was_  a midwestern boy from a small town. He could definitely sing about that.  

His dad was more than a little startled when he saw him, but when Kurt asked him for help interpreting lyrics, he was completely willing to go along with it. “Anything to help you out,” he said. “And then we can pick up Sarah from school together.”

It had been a while since Kurt had gone with his dad to Kewpee Burgers, and it was clearly making him emotional to be there together. After the waitress took their orders, he reached out and took his dad’s hand, even though that wasn’t really something most midwestern boys did.  

“Thanks again,” he said. “For this help. So you were saying about the themes in Pink Houses? How the American Dream’s not all it’s cracked up to be?”

“Sure. The eighties were a tough time for a lot of Americans. Mellencamp’s talking about all that cheap housing construction, the cookie-cutter cardboard homes, and what happened when people found out they couldn’t afford them after all. A lot of people foreclosed on their homes when home mortgages ballooned. Just buying their own place wasn’t enough to help them make it, in the end.” He sipped his Coke.  “Buying a house costs a lot more than the sticker price.”

For once, Kurt decided he wasn’t going to comment on his dad’s choice of beverage. He nibbled on a French fry. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you borrow money to buy big things. You can use a credit card, but for bigger things like cars, usually banks will lend you money at a better percentage, maybe one or two percent if you have good credit, or six or seven if you don’t. But home mortgages are special. It puts a lien on the property. If you don’t pay it back, you forfeit your right to the property, even if you’ve paid a lot of it already. They can sell it to somebody else — that’s foreclosure.”

“Like when Noah’s mother died,” Kurt said. “They took their home away.”

“Yeah, I’m assuming that’s what happened. Timothy handled that paperwork. But there’s also the thing about percentages. You have to understand that before about 2003, home mortgage rates were a lot higher. People had to pay fifteen, eighteen percent. Now they’ve dropped way down. Last time I refinanced, I got four and a half, and I could probably do better now if I wanted to pay to refinance again.”  

Kurt drank his water. “So  _Pink Houses_ , that’s talking about… people losing their houses?”

“In a way. Losing their ideals, more like. People were brought up to think, you grow up, you get a job, a house, a car, you get married, and everything’s fine. But it’s not always like that.”  

His dad’s face was so animated, it made Kurt smile just to watch him. It wasn’t so different from the way Finn looked when he was singing. “You think Mellencamp is right?”

“Well, yeah. It’s funny, living in this country. We all have such different ideas about what’s important, even though we enjoy the same freedoms.”

Kurt coughed. “Except if you’re gay. Or a woman. Or a racial minority. Or —“

“Yeah, there’s that too,” Burt agreed. “That’s one reason I love Springsteen and Mellencamp. Both of them are songwriters who are often misinterpreted as being good ol’ boys, singing about the USA, but really they’re both counterculture liberals who are using their songs to express dissatisfaction with the status quo.”

“Like Lady Gaga,” Kurt supplied. His dad grinned, resting a hand on Kurt’s cap.

“Coming at the same issue from different angles, maybe.”

He nodded, feeling the tension inside as the waitress set their plates in front of them. He picked up his chicken filet and took a bite before speaking again. “Dad… I have to talk to you about Noah moving back in. I think we’ve come up with a way to handle that, to make it easier for him.”

“That’d be a relief.” His dad looked appreciative. “I think Sarah’s going a little nuts without him.”

“Yeah. I’m having a hard enough time myself. I can only imagine what she’s going through.” He took a deep breath. “Noah… does better when he’s doing things for other people. Like cooking. He feels useful, helpful.”

“I get that,” his dad said, nodding. “Nobody wants to be a freeloader. And I’m guessing he didn’t get to be much of a kid, if he was always taking care of Sarah.”

“That’s part of it,” Kurt agreed. “But it’s important for Noah to have the freedom to do this in his own way, in his own house.” He watched his dad’s face go quizzical, and he sighed. “I think it might be easier just to show you what I mean. I just need you to trust me that I know what Noah needs, even if it seems… unorthodox.”

His dad raised an eyebrow, taking another bite. “That’s kind of a tall order. You’re just a kid yourself.”

“I know. But you know I’m responsible. I take things seriously.”

“Yeah, and sometimes you manipulate people into giving you what you want.”

Kurt was shocked into silence. He ate for a while, not looking at his dad.  

“Hey,” his dad said softly. “I’m not pulling any punches with you, because we’ve never been that way together. You and me, we’re honest with one another. I’m just being honest with you. It doesn’t mean I respect you or love you any less.”

He looked hard at his dad. “I’m  _not_  going to manipulate Noah into doing anything,” he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “He trusts me, and I wouldn’t take advantage of him. Ever.”

“Okay,” his dad said, touching his arm, “okay, yeah. I believe you. You’ve had a good track record when it comes to him.”

That was still a little hurtful, to think his dad thought he might not have a good track record when it came to  _other_  people, but he wasn’t going to get into that now. “And Finn. Finn said he wants to come back too, if Noah’s moving back in.”

His dad’s mouth slipped open, and he just sat there staring at Kurt, his wild hope dawning in his eyes. “He — last I heard, he told Carole he wasn’t ready.”

“He’s not,” Kurt agreed, “and he warned me it wasn’t going to be easy. But he thinks he needs to be with him, at the house. For Noah, and for himself.”

“Christ, you’re serious?” His dad laughed, and the smile that spread across his face was almost embarrassingly joyful. Kurt smiled back. “I’m going to have to figure this out… this summer, put an addition on, at least on the first floor… and the baby — it’s going to be complicated.”

“It’ll be crowded for a while. And I think we might all end up hating one another sometimes, but…” Kurt felt his own hope rising. “Last weekend at Tessera showed me some important things about the kind of home I want to have. I think this could be good for Noah.”

Kurt let his dad have some space for his own thoughts while they drove over to Lima North Middle School. While they waited for Sarah by the curb, his dad turned back to him with an expression of concern.  

“We haven’t talked about all the things I… learned, while we were on vacation,” he said. “About you guys.”

“Yes, and that’s  _fine_  with me,” Kurt added quickly. “I’m not Noah. I don’t  _want_  to tell you everything.”

“No, but Kurt, if we’re in the same house,  _all_ of us, it’s going to come out. You’re really not going to have anywhere else to go to… to do the things you guys do.” He looked pained to have to talk about it, and that made Kurt feel even more uncomfortable. “Maybe I could renovate the garage into a —“

“Dad,” Kurt said, a little desperately. “You’re not going to build your son a  _dungeon.”_

“Is that what it’s called?” His dad laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, maybe not. Let’s take this one step at a time.” He glanced up the walk toward the front door, the empty sidewalk. “Hmm. I’m not seeing anything happening here. We should park and go in.”

Kurt followed his dad into the main hallway of the middle school. It was amazing how much smaller everything looked than it had just two years before. “You don’t pick her up every day, do you?”

“No, but I called ahead today to let her sixth period teacher know she should meet me outside.” His dad paused at the front desk. “I’m here to pick up Sarah Puckerman. I’m her temporary guardian. Is her last class already out?”

“They have another half hour.” The secretary, Mrs. Jeffreys, glanced at Kurt, then did a doubletake. “Kurt Hummel? Welcome back!”

“Hi, Mrs. Jeffreys.” He smiled. “It’s been a while.”

She nodded at his clothing. “My goodness, you certainly look… different.”

“Yes, well, I’m making a statement about hiding behind fashion. May we pick up Sarah a little early from class?”

“I must have been mistaken,” his dad interrupted. “She told me her last class ended around 2:20?”

“That would be the end of fifth period.” Mrs. Jeffreys made some rapid taps on her computer and frowned. “No, she has an independent study during sixth period with Mr. Loughner. I’ll call down to his room. Number B-233. Kurt, do you remember where the B wing is?”

Kurt led his dad down the empty hallway to the west side of the building. His dad looked troubled.

“I should know her schedule,” he said. “But her grades are fine, and she never talks about school. Like you did. She just does her homework and — I should be more involved.”

The classroom contained three students working quietly, none of whom were Sarah, but the handsome bespectacled teacher set his laptop aside when Kurt and his dad entered the room. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m here to pick up Sarah,” his dad said. He held out a hand, and the man shook it. “Burt Hummel. She’s been staying with us since her mother’s passing.” 

“Oh, you’re Mr. Hummel!” His eyes lit up. “I’m her homeroom teacher, Rick Loughner. I’ll tell you, you’re a bit of a rock star to Sarah. She has a lot to say about you. You’ll find her at the end of the hall in the IT lab. She’s usually Skyping with her mentor during this period.” Mr. Loughner paused, seeing their blank faces. “She’s been studying architecture and urban design with a high school student, Lauren Zizes. Lauren’s tremendously talented with CAD, and Sarah looks to be following in her footsteps.”

“Lauren?” Kurt interrupted. He thought back to that day when he’d run into Sarah in the computer lab at McKinley. “What kind of project is Sarah working on?”

“It’s a conceptual project about residential housing, but with some unique elements. She’s been incredibly resourceful, consulting with local architects and working with existing blueprints, incorporating local code requirements…” He smiled fondly. “I wish I could take any of the credit, but it’s all Sarah.”

“She’s quite a kid,” his dad managed. “Can you point us toward the IT lab?”

The expression on Sarah’s face when she saw Kurt in his flannel shirt and boot-cut jeans was hard to describe. She stood straight up from her computer terminal and looked hard at him.

“What,” she said distinctly, “is  _that_?”

“Glee club,” he told her. “I’m looking beneath the surface of middle America.” He raised his voice so the microphone could pick up his voice. “Hi, Lauren.”

Sarah actually turned red, muttering, “I’ve gotta go,” before disconnecting her session and turning her computer off.  

“Sarah, you told me your last class was over at 2:20,” his dad said.  

“I just have this independent study thing.” She tossed her head, putting her bag over her shoulder. “It’s not a big deal, Tatenui.”

“It’s a big deal if I can’t find you when I need to,” he insisted. “Come on. We’re going home, and you’re going to tell me all about this project.”

Kurt listened to their arguing with only half an ear. It was curious how the time his dad was spending with Sarah didn’t feel like it was taking anything away from his time with him, while the moments his dad spent with Finn felt a lot riskier. By the time he got home, though, he was pretty sure he’d figured it out.  

“I had an epiphany,” he said to Adam’s voice mail as he stripped off his reverse costume. “A minor one, about families and relationships and shared time. I hope your adventures in New York are going well. I’m so jealous that you’re there without me. You’ll have to tell me how many interviews you did today. I will tell  _you_  that Noah’s head is so, so soft. And I’ll ask Finn to take a video of my solo this week in Glee club. It should be memorable. I still don’t know what Noah is even practicing; he’s going to be at Mercedes’ all week, but I’ll be sure to record that too. We love you,  _mon ange.”_   

* * *

Finn smiled at Angela behind the desk as he stepped into the reception area.  “Hey.”

“Welcome back,” she said, smiling back. “How was your trip?”

“Amazing,” he admitted. “I really didn’t expect it would be so… amazing.” He laughed. “Did Carl tell you about the tattoos?”

“No!” Her eyes widened. “Who got a tattoo? Did Alec do them?”

“Yeah, we all got one, the same one. Our parents gave permission.” He glanced at the tinted windows leading to the street, but no one was attempting to look in, so he perched on the edge of the desk and pulled up his sweater far enough to show the triplet musical note on his chest.  Angela looked delighted. “He said I could wait for him to finish up with his last client. Okay if I go back to his office?”

She hesitated. “I think they might be in there now. Why don’t you wait here? Can I get you some hot chocolate?”

As Finn watched Angela do her thing, he couldn’t help think about what Kurt had told him about the way Puck had been with Mercedes.  He’d barely seen Puck all day today, just in passing in the hallway, and every time, Puck had been right beside Mercedes, giving her all his attention. It had been a little disconcerting until Kurt had clarified things.  _He wants to do the best he can for her, while she’s in charge of him,_  he’d said.  _And then, tonight, he’ll be ready to do that for you._ It was a heady thought, that Puck might be charging up his batteries all day just so he could be ready to give Finn what he needed.

But Rachel, today at the doctor’s office, getting her throat checked,  _she_  hadn’t wanted to give him anything. She’d  _needed_  him. And that had been kind of amazing, too, in a completely different way than the amazing of Puck or the amazing of Carl at Tessera or even the amazing of Blaine. He loved all of it. Having them need him gave  _him_  what he needed, all in different ways, and all of them meaningful. Mostly he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have it all, even when it felt overwhelming.  

He stared up at the wall across from him, at the close-up picture of a braided single-tail whip. Going back to  _Carl in Lima_  after he’d had  _Carl at Tessera_  was going to be hard, he could already tell. Finn had called Carl twice since Sunday night, and Carl had responded eventually, but it had taken several hours. He understood, of course; Carl was busy with work, but after having his undivided attention for four days, he could feel the lack.  

“Oh — Finn!”

He glanced up, startled by the voice. It wasn’t Carl, or anyone else he would expect to see here in this office. It was  _Ms. Pillsbury._   

He stared at her wide eyes, her shocked expression, and he couldn’t even bring himself to say the lie that he was here to see Davis Lawton, attorney at law. He opened his mouth, feeling his face flaming. “Hi, Ms. P.”

Ms. Pillsbury looked back and forth between Angela and Finn, then took a step backwards, toward Carl’s office. It was only then that Finn realized that Ms. Pillsbury being here meant something, too.  

“Are — you here to see Mr. Lawton or Dr. Howell?” he blurted.  

He meant it to be an out, an opportunity for her to tell whatever convenient untruth she wanted to tell to protect her anonymity. Because whatever the truth was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But Carl’s voice cut smoothly across the awkwardness, preventing her from answering.

“She’s here on a personal matter.” Carl, in his green  _Dr. Carl_  scrubs, strode over to stand next to her and handed her a yellow purse. “Here, Emma, you left this in my office. I’ll pick you up at six on Wednesday?”

“Yes,” she stammered, taking the purse. The smile she gave him was close to worship. “I’ll be ready.”

“Great.” Carl smiled. He placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for stopping by. Finn, you ready to get those teeth cleaned? I hope you’ve been flossing.”

“I — yeah, of course.” He stood up, giving Ms. Pillsbury what he hoped was a casual smile, and followed Carl back toward his office.  

Carl ushered him into the office and closed the door behind him. His smile had vanished.

“Finn,” he said heavily. “You  _can’t_  ask those questions of anyone you meet in this building. No matter who he or she may be. You  _must_  maintain confidentiality. This is a matter of strictest importance.”

“I know,” Finn moaned. “I just — I choked. She’s my  _guidance counselor._ ”  

“I know. And I’m sorry to have put you in this position, especially after I told you I would inform you about anyone I was seeing socially. Thank you for going along with the cover story for you.” He closed his eyes with a sigh. “Even if it is only marginally believable, considering I don’t even have a dental office here.”

“Yeah, I figured, whatever reason Ms. P was here, she didn’t have to tell me the truth. But I didn’t expect you guys to be —“ He paused, giving an unhappy laugh. “I guess this is better than the alternative.”

“Finn.” Now his tone was chiding. “You know better than to make assumptions about anyone, or to judge them for wanting anything that you yourself want.”

“Jesus.” He cringed. “I really don’t want to think about  _Ms. Pillsbury_  that way.”

“If I’m going to treat you like an adult,” Carl said firmly, “I expect you to treat others that way, too. And Emma and I…”

Finn stared at him, swallowing his disbelief. “You — the two of you are really dating?”

“I asked her on a date,” Carl corrected. “She said yes. Whatever happens next will be between two consenting adults.”

“Consenting adults,” Finn echoed. “You mean she  _does —?”_

“That is none of your business!” Carl’s eyes blazed.  

Finn felt his own response surge up, hot and accusing. “It is  _too_  my business. You’re my  _boyfriend.”_

There was a brief silence, during which Finn defiantly stood his ground, all the while wondering what he’d gotten himself into. Carl did not look away. Finally his mouth tightened.  

“If putting me in that category means you forget your place,  _boy_ , then perhaps it’s time we clarify a few things about this relationship. Take off your sweater and your jeans and put your hands on the back of the couch.”

“Carl,” he protested, but Carl’s hand shot out and landed, hard, on the seat of his jeans.

“You will address me properly,  _boy.”_

“Sir.” Finn wasn’t sure if he should cry or yell. He felt like he wanted to do both. “This isn’t — we weren’t  _like_  this over the weekend, and —“

“Yes, and maybe that was a mistake.” Carl sounded completely cold now. “A mistake for me to expect that we could handle that kind of an equitable situation, even a temporary one.”

That made him flush again, with shame this time, and he hung his head in bitter despair. “But it’s what I want. It was so  _good._  I thought — I thought you felt the same way. Didn’t you?”

Carl rested his paddle in the center of Finn’s bottom. Even before the first swat, Finn felt the sting of rebuke. “It does not matter how I  _felt_ , boy. That is not how the world will ever treat us. We are not equals — not in age, nor authority, nor responsibility — and we never will be. No matter how we _feel_  about one another,  _this_  is the way it must be between us.”

Now Finn did cry, as Carl exacted punishment for his infraction, messy loud tears of embarrassment and protest, far more dramatic than the paddling demanded. He was blubbering like a baby.  

_Like the kid I am,_  he thought desperately.  _Like the kid he sees me to be._

When it was over, Finn waited, fingers leaving indentations in the leather couch as he clutched it. Sweat and tears dripped off his face onto the cushions. He waited for Carl to leave him there, to give him time alone to reestablish his equilibrium.  

But Carl didn’t leave. Finn could hear him, moving from the desk to the room and back, opening and closing drawers and shuffling papers.  

“I should have done this before we went to Tessera,” he said. “I was afraid people would say it was too soon, but I knew it was time, and I’ll accept the responsibility for that.”

Finn lowered his chin to his chest. “I understand if you’re… if you want to stop seeing me. I mean, I get why. You don’t need somebody like me weighing you down.”

Carl slowly returned to his side. The feeling of Carl’s hand on his back was enough to start him crying all over again. This time it was with a burgeoning sense of loss.  _I can’t let go of you,_  he wanted to say, but he kept quiet.  

“My boy,” Carl said, his voice gentle, and then, again, fierce:  _“My_  boy.”

His hand came up to caress Finn’s neck, squeezing the knotted muscles. Finn gave in to his touch, leaning his head against Carl’s hand with a broken sob.

Carl put pressure on his shoulder, directing him to the floor, and Finn knelt at his feet, folding into a bent crouch, his head still down. He felt Carl’s fingers brushing through his hair.  

Then there was a heavy coolness resting on his neck, encircling him. Finn felt the restful weight of it before his mind caught up enough to realize what was happening, and by then, Carl had already buckled it securely on him. His hand came up automatically to touch the leather, and he tilted his head up to meet Carl’s eyes. They were solemn, but not angry.

“You get to say no,” he said. “You have other commitments, other people to consider. I do, too. But do not think for one moment that that changes how I feel about you, Finn. And I…” He paused, his eyes glistening. “I am going to hold on as tight as you will allow.”

“Please,” Finn whispered. He grasped Carl’s hand to his chest, and Carl’s other hand went there immediately, cradling Finn’s hand in both of his. “Please… don’t let go.”

“No, my boy.” Carl pulled him in close, resting Finn’s head against his stomach. “I won’t do that.”

They stayed there for a while. Carl’s hand on his head put him in a timeless state, and he had no desire to end it anytime soon. He could feel Carl’s pulse in the hollow of his hip, the cadence of Carl’s slow, even breathing, the strength of his grip. He could make Finn do anything he wanted him to do. The idea did not feel at all scary.

“I’m going to move us upstairs to room six,” he said at last. “There’s a bed there, and snacks and water, and I can take care of you properly. Did you bring plug number five?”

“Yes, sir,” Finn said, moving slowly back onto his heels. Carl seemed to be in no hurry. “It’s in my backpack.”

He helped Finn to his feet, tugging his jeans back up, and coaxed him toward the door. As they went, Finn caught sight of himself in the mirror over the fireplace, and he paused, staring, at the flush on his face and bare chest, his pupils so dark they’d almost swallowed the blue of his irises. At the finely tooled honey brown leather of the collar around his neck.

“Wow,” he breathed.  

Carl appeared in the mirror beside him. He rested his hand on Finn’s chest again, his palm covering the tattoo on his heart, looking satisfied. “You don’t get to see yourself like this very often. What do you see?”

“I look…” He touched the collar again, then lowered his hand to Carl’s on his chest. He let out a little laugh. “Like Patrick.”

Carl smiled at him. “Then you see why you might want to get him one of those.”

“He’s not ready for that,” Finn said immediately, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the way it looked.

“Well, you can buy it now,” he suggested, “and keep it here, for when he _is_ ready.”  

Carl continued moving him along the hallway toward the stairs leading up to room six. Angela was working at the desk within sight of them, and although she did not pause as they mounted the first steps, Finn could see her smiling.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn shows Kurt his collar and tells him about Carl and Emma. Finn performs "Jesse's Girl" and Puck performs "Lady is a Tramp" in Glee. Toby helps Kurt, Brittany and Mike with their choreography. Finn shows Puck his collar. Sarah talks to Kurt about her dad. Puck has a conversation with Tess about moving back into the Hummel house, and Tess appeals to Carl to fix a problem on her behalf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me forever to write this chapter, mostly because I was completely uncertain about how to handle the Jesse's Girl scene, but I figured it out eventually.
> 
> Thanks to knittycat99 for help with Toby's dancing and to flinchflower for writing Tess. Warning for reference to D/s and discipline. 
> 
> -amy

The text Kurt received from Finn was somewhat worrisome.  _I need to talk to you guys. When are you picking up Puck?_

_Mercedes has him until it's dark. What's the matter?_

Kurt had to admit his concern was only partly about Finn. Now that Finn and Puck had both said yes to moving back in, he was already feeling anxious to push forward, to get them there immediately. Logically he knew pushing for that wasn't going to help anything, but he wasn't sure he was going to keep from clutching onto both of them with all ten fingers and holding as tight as he could.

But the answer came as even more of a surprise.  _Something happened and I don't know if I should tell Puck about it. Can you come over on your way to get him?_

_Of course. I'll be there as soon as I finish here._

It wasn't going to be the most elegant of performances, but Kurt still felt proud of what he'd done with Mellencamp's "Pink Houses." The worst part was that he couldn't come up with any choreography that felt authentic. Doing nothing but standing there singing with his hands in his pockets was ironic commentary all on its own, but it still didn't quite feel like enough.

As he climbed into the Navigator, he got another call, this time from Toby. He smiled as he put his phone to his ear. "Well, this is a surprise. I haven't heard from you in weeks."

_"I could blame it on bein' busy, sugar, although I ain't going to make any excuses. But it's my spring break this week, and I wanted you to know I was coming into town tomorrow."_

Kurt backed out of the garage, biting his lip. "Is it… are you going to see Mr. Schue?"

_"I'm gonna try. He ain't gonna like what I have to say to him. Anyway, it'd go a long way toward making me feel better if your friend Brittany might have a little time after school. She told me we'd have to get cracking pretty quick on the garden, and spring's on its way. Even if she can't make it out to the house, she can give me some ideas about what kind of seedlings to start."_

"Oh, she'd like that. Especially if we could find time to do some dancing. Maybe Mike could come too?"

_"You read my mind,"_  Toby agreed.

They arranged to meet at McKinley after school. Kurt was pretty sure he would be able to reserve the dance studio after sixth period, sure enough that he was willing to text Britt and Mike right away and tell them,  _Dance rehearsal after school with Toby, bring your shoes._ He wondered if he should have prepared Toby for his change in wardrobe, but decided it wouldn't hurt him to be prepared.

The last person he called was Adam. It was a little early, but Adam's own schedule had been so packed with performances and studio time and interviews that both Kurt and Puck had gotten in the habit of calling and leaving messages whenever they had a moment. If they were able to get through, it was a lucky break. Then Adam would call them when he knew they would be home. Thankfully, Kurt's dad did not object to Adam on Skype being a regular member of their breakfast conversations.

"It's me," Kurt said to Adam's voice mail as he navigated his way to Finn's house. "I think I could use some emotional encouragement in regards to my performance on Thursday. I'm pretty sure nobody's going to get the message. Anyway, I'll try you again before bed. Hope the questions were better for this interview than the last one."

He realized as he hung up the phone that he hadn't said  _I love you_  or  _missing you a lot,_  which were both definitely true. His rational side told him if he actually said those things as often as he meant them, he would never have time to say anything else, but his NRE-influenced emotional side assured him that he should take every opportunity to make sure Adam  _knew_  they were true. So he fired off a couple texts containing those sentiments as a supplement. When Adam texted him back five minutes later with big smiley faces and virtual kisses, Kurt felt reassured to have made the right decision.

Finn was waiting by the door when Kurt got there. He grabbed Kurt's hand and dragged him into the family room to settle on the brand-new furniture.

"Did you and my dad have fun at the baseball game?"

"Yeah, it was fun. Cold, but I caught a fly ball." Finn was definitely distracted.

"I'm glad. Now, what's going on, Finn?" Kurt straightened the collar on his flannel shirt. "Please tell me this isn't something serious."

"It's serious. It's just not bad. Or at least not for me. I don't think — I just don't know." His eyes were pleading. "I need your perspective, as — uh." He blushed. "A fellow switch."

The word made Kurt blush a little, too, but he nodded. "I can certainly talk with you about my point of view about that."

"Yeah, I hope this doesn't bother you, because I think it might freak Puck out." Finn reached for a pretty wooden box sitting on the coffee table. It was plain, with no carvings or significant ornamentation, but well-made, and he could tell even without touching it that it would be velvety-smooth. He took a deep breath and opened the lid.

Inside, nestled in a chocolate-colored swath of velvet, was a honey-brown leather collar with a gold-tone buckle. Kurt's heart stopped for a moment, and he glanced up at Finn with sudden tension.

"Oh, Finn… this isn't… you're not asking…?"

"No," Finn said immediately. "Kurt, I  _promise,_  I wouldn't buy any kind of collar for you without a  _lot_  of talking first. And even then, I think I'd ask you to design it."

Kurt laughed, relaxing. He put out a tentative hand to touch the collar, watching Finn pause, then nod his permission for Kurt to pick it up from the box. "Is this for… for Patrick, then? You think Noah might object?"

"God." Finn laughed, a little hysterically, resting his forehead in his hand. "No, but Carl says I should get him one. That it would help him feel more secure. I don't know, it seems awfully soon. I barely know him."

"I think that's up to you, Finn." He examined the workmanship, which was exquisite. The stitching was all hidden, which Kurt thought must be nearly impossible to do on leather, and the ring affixed opposite the buckle was shiny enough that he wondered if it might actually be gold plated. "So who does it belong to?"

"Me."

Kurt cocked his head. "You bought it? Finn, how did you afford this? It must have cost a fortune. And are you really thinking you would have  _time_  for another sub, someday? I'm not saying you can't, I just think —"

"No. Kurt, listen." Finn reached out and took Kurt's hand, drawing his focus. "It's for me. Carl gave it to me. He — he put it on me."

Kurt realized several moments later that he was still sitting there, staring at Finn, with his mouth hanging open. He shut it.

"It was kind of a surprise, but I didn't say no. I mean… I didn't say anything at  _all_  like no." Finn let out an embarrassed laugh. "I guess it did exactly what he planned for it to do. To put me in my place. I was complaining about the way things were different with us, now that we were back home, after Tessera."

Kurt felt himself gravitating toward Finn on the couch, filling the void between them so that he was tucked in under Finn's arm. Finn took off Kurt's cap and nuzzled his flattened hair with a distracted sigh. It felt so good, Kurt didn't even care how he must look.

"I take it you don't much care for things being different," Kurt said.

"It was stupid. I don't even know how I thought — of course it's impossible. Wanting things to be equal between us. He's right; there's no way we can ever be that way. Even after I graduate from high school, he'll still be old enough to be my dad."

"There'll always be a power differential there," Kurt agreed. He squeezed Finn's arm, still snuggled close. "But it doesn't mean he doesn't love you."

"No, I know. And when he gave me this… god, Kurt." His voice trailed off, becoming husky. "I thought you might get it, how it felt, at least a little. After the way it was at Tessera, the five of us."

Kurt felt the thrill of remembering in several parts of his body. "Yes," he murmured. "I do get it. I need both, just like you need both." He turned his head to look up at Finn. "But you saw the way Noah was in that room with us.  _He's_  a switch, too. Even if it's not as often, he's done it with me, and even with you, a little. And the boy in the bar."

Remembering that seemed to settle Finn a little. "Yeah, the mythical boy at the bar. I wasn't even thinking about him. I was just wondering if Puck might freak out, thinking about me like that."

"I think, if he's the person  _I_  think he is, he'll be as happy for you as I am."

Finn smiled, and kissed Kurt on the head. "You're pretty amazing, Kurt."

"You haven't commented on my choice of wardrobe."

Finn touched Kurt's jeans, nonplussed. "I… didn't even notice?"

"Mmmm." Kurt rested his head back against Finn's broad chest. "That was the right answer. Come on, let's go pick up Noah together. And bring this." He let Finn place the beautiful collar back into the box. "I think it would help for him to see it, even if you aren't ever going to wear it in front of him."

"Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen any time soon."

Finn was still giving him weird sidelong looks as they got into the Navigator, and when Kurt turned to confront him, he winced.

"There's something else I don't really think I should tell you, but I don't think I can keep it from you. It's about Carl and the person he's… dating."

"Carl's  _dating?_ " His mind immediately went into overdrive, speculating. "Is it someone we know?"

"Yeah."

"He's not trying to make it work with Ms. Corcoran again, is he? I heard that was a spectacular failure, back when they were a lot younger."

"Not her." Finn squirmed in his seat. "A teacher at McKinley."

_"Finn._ " Kurt stomped his foot on the brake in wide-eyed outrage. "Not  _Mr. Schue."_

"Oh my god,  _no,_ " he moaned. He put his hand to his forehead. "That would be… no. I can't even imagine Mr. Schue with another guy besides Toby. Do you really think he would be Carl's type, anyway?"

Kurt kept his face as even and unresponsive as he could manage. "I have no idea. Are you going to tell me?"

"This is so fucking weird." Finn let out a gusty sigh. "Fine. It's — Ms. Pillsbury."

"Oh. That's — actually, that makes a lot of sense."

He turned to Kurt in outrage. "Are you serious?"

"Finn, don't tell me you expected Carl to remain celibate for an entire year while he waited for you."

"No! And there's no way they're doing it. They're going on  _one date._ " Finn looked completely miserable. "Do you really think he would do that? With Ms.  _Pillsbury?"_

Now Kurt couldn't help but smile. "I've never seen you jealous like this."

"I'm not jealous," Finn said immediately. "Not for the reason you think, anyway."

"Oh, really? Because I think if I were dating a man thirty years my senior who told me I couldn't have an equitable relationship with him, and then had to watch him begin a relationship with someone else his own age who might get to have that, I'd be jealous too."

"Oh." Finn paused. "Yeah, okay, well… maybe it is the reason you think."

Kurt put a hand on Finn's leg. "I think I know you pretty well, Finn Hudson."

He slumped in the passenger seat. "I just feel stupid for wanting something with him I can't have, when I already have something I  _love."_

"I don't think you get to have everything you want. Isn't that what Mr. Schue was trying to teach us with that song choice for sectionals?" Kurt squeezed his knee. "But you also get to want more than you have, even if you already have a lot."

"Thanks, baby." Finn touched his hand. "For… what do they call that? Giving me permission to do stuff, even if it's not all that good for me?"

"I'm not enabling you, Finn. I'm just keeping you from killing yourself with guilt. I don't think that's particularly useful. Even if I do it myself sometimes." He smiled across the seat. "You know I like Carl a whole lot."

"Yeah," Finn said, sounding glum. Kurt stifled a giggle.

"And I'm sure I'll like Patrick, too."

"You know it's not like that with him. It's more like the way Carl is with his clients. He takes care of them; that's all."

"You're never going to convince me spanking another human being isn't an intimate act." Kurt paused as he turned off the car in Mercedes' driveway, shaking his head in wonderment. "I kind of can't believe I just said that."

Finn glanced out the window to confirm they were alone before leaning over and kissing him. It was firm and confident and a little urgent, and Kurt responded in completely predictable ways. When Finn sat back, he was smiling. He also looked a lot more calm.

"Thank you for being awesome, baby."

"You're welcome," Kurt said, feeling wonderfully dizzy. He took Finn's hand and placed it on the suddenly half-hard bulge in his Levis. Finn's smile was almost as gratifying as the kiss had been. "You know this is what I want with you."

"My hand on your dick? Yeah, I know that."

Kurt gave Finn's shoulder an ineffective push. "The talking, smartass. Helping each other make our way in this complicated relationship. Depending on one another."

Finn was grinning. "Yeah, I know that part too." He left his hand on Kurt's crotch as he leaned in for another kiss, this one more gentle and leisurely, making noises of approval as Kurt's body continued to respond under his touch. "You think we can have both?"

"Yes, please," Kurt breathed. "But — god — not in Mercedes' driveway, okay?"

Finn looked Kurt over as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "She's not going to be able to tell. There are definitely advantages to loose-fitting jeans."

The Mercedes and Puck they met upon ringing the doorbell were not exactly who Kurt had expected. Puck had been submissive and calm when he'd picked him up the day before. Tonight, Puck was absolutely doubled over in laughter, talking a mile a minute at Mercedes, who was talking right over top of him.

"Puck, there is  _no_  way Super Mario is gonna show his testicles, no matter what kind of funky raccoon-dog suit he's got on —"

"I'm telling you, the tanuki's this badass shapeshifter in Japan, and he's got the biggest balls you ever —"

"— I am not  _listening,_ you're going to ruin it for me —" Mercedes put her hands over her ears, all ready to sing  _lalala_. Then she saw Kurt, and her hands fell to her sides. "Kurt, what in hell are you  _wearing?"_

"It's my costume for Glee," he said, doing a little twirl before shoving his hands into his pockets and slouching in a calculated fashion. "What do you think?"

Mercedes started picking apart his choice of flannel and denim. Puck, on the other hand, was completely speechless, staring at Kurt with wide eyes. Kurt smiled at him, resisting the urge to bat his eyes and camp it up. That wasn't the point to this outfit. He held out his hand.

"Are you ready to go home, sweetheart?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Puck shook off his surprise and hugged Mercedes hard. "See you tomorrow, babe."

"You can bet I'll be demanding a rematch," she said. "And you promised to show me the shortcut to get to the end of the Star Road."

"You guys played Super Mario 3?" Finn sounded a little wistful. Mercedes smiled at him.

"You can come tomorrow and play with us, if you want."

"Thanks, but I already have plans."

Finn didn't give Mercedes details, but Kurt knew Wednesday was Carl's night with Finn, and Finn wouldn't give that up for Super Mario, or just about anything else. Puck took Kurt's hand as he picked up his backpack from the floor of the front hall, walking with them back to the Navigator.

"Are we taking you back to your place?" Kurt asked as they climbed into their seats. "Or are you going to come over?"

Puck gave him a cocky grin. "Neither. If you'd take me to my truck, I've got a super-secret rehearsal tonight in an undisclosed location. Couple of guys in the jazz band are helping me out — and Toby."

"Toby?" Kurt echoed, his eyes wide. "He's not coming into town until tomorrow."

"Phone convo. I'm not giving you anything else." He waved Kurt's questions away. "This is something for Mercedes. Not a fucking word to her, okay? You'll have to wait and watch it in Glee tomorrow with everybody else."

Kurt glanced over at the wooden box on the floor next to Finn's foot, but Finn just said casually, "No problem. I'm sure it'll be awesome. I'd better head home, anyway. I've got to practice my own assignment for Glee."

* * *

For once, Finn was glad his mom was over at Kurt's house. She never minded him playing the drum kit, even though he couldn't turn down the volume when he practiced. He knew she'd be able to spot the discontent on his face, and he didn't really want to deal with questions at the moment.

He'd set the hickory box with the collar on the counter across from his drums, where he could see it while he was hitting the twos and fours hard. All the while, he was imagining Carl dressed up in his expensive clothes, sitting across the table from his date, holding her hand and smiling at her from under his lashes. Finn gritted his teeth.

The funny thing was, he wasn't imagining Ms. Pillsbury as the one holding Carl's hand. No, in his mind, it was someone older, someone far more elegant and formidable than his guidance counselor.  _Tess._

Carl — no, he'd been Jesse back then, when he and Tess had been together like that.  _My father's name was Carl,_  he'd told Finn,  _and I couldn't imagine being the kind of man to deserve that name until I made some pretty significant changes._  At that time, Jesse hadn't been the one in charge of his relationship. Finn had to smile. Like he could imagine anybody being in charge of Tess.

But there it was. Carl was the one in charge in  _their_  relationship, no question. It wasn't like Finn didn't want it that way. He knew all too well how it felt to want opposing things with different people. All of that was fine.

It was just that there was something inexplicably frustrating about the idea of seeing Ms. Pillsbury in the hallway at school and knowing she and Carl were going to get to go on a date. A  _real_  date. Not even like the ones he'd gone on with Kurt or Puck, where he'd had to hide and pretend, or the ones Kurt and Puck had gone on themselves, off in another city where nobody would recognize them or give them a hard time. Just — an ordinary date.  _The kind of date Carl and I will never have._

Finn played a series of double stroke rolls, then paused to adjust the tension rod on his tom. He didn't have that kind of relationship with Puck or Kurt, not even if they wanted him in charge in the bedroom. He wasn't going to take them out, the way Carl was taking Ms. Pillsbury. The way Tess had taken Jesse out, probably, back when he was younger and — apparently — more reckless. He wondered if Carl would show him pictures of his Jesse days.

He tried to hang on to Kurt's comment:  _you get to want more than what you have, even if you already have a lot._ It felt incredibly selfish, but there was no denying he wished he could have that with Kurt, or Puck — and, yeah, with Carl. Maybe especially with Carl, because Carl had told him  _we can never have that._  He had to stop practicing for a minute and blow his nose.

"Yeah," he muttered to the picture, still attached to the edge of his kit with tape. It was the crayon drawing Puck had made for Finn's birthday, the one of Puck and his family, along with the tiny little Thumper on one end. "Did you know your papa cries all the time? Bet you didn't know that. It's amazing. Makes me admire him more. But I still feel like a total loser when  _I_  cry. You're gonna find that grownups are kind of stupid that way." He shook his head to himself. "Hard to believe  _I'm_  going to be one of the grownups here."

He took a resolute breath and went back to puzzling out the notation for  _Tom Sawyer._  It was one of those eighties songs that drummers loved to play, so he figured it would be a good song to play for Glee for this week, considering they were supposed to be performing things that represented them. Michael in jazz band already knew the guitar part, and Geddy Lee's vocal part wasn't too high for Finn to sing.

But he couldn't help coming back to those simple twos and fours. Another song was in his head, overriding the complex rhythms of Neil Peart, and by the time he opened his mouth and began to sing, he knew he'd changed his mind about what song he was going to do for this assignment.

_Jesse is a friend_   
_Yeah, I know he's been a good friend of mine_   
_But lately something's changed_   
_It ain't hard to define_   
_Jesse's got himself a girl_   
_And I want to make her mine_   
_And she's watching him with those eyes_   
_And she's lovin' him with that body, I just know it_   
_And he's holding her in his arms late, late at night  
_ _You know I wish that I —_

Finn choked on the first line of the chorus.  _I wish that I **was**  Jesse's girl._ It was a subtle change. He could chalk it up to misremembering the lyrics.

But it wasn't as simple as that. He didn't just want to be the girl. Dammit, he  _liked_  being the guy. He  _liked_  being able to take his date out and dress up and show her a good time, to hold the chair for her and make her smile and blush.

He couldn't even imagine trying that with Puck. The one time they'd tried, Mercedes had set them up on the perfect guy-date, with pizza and video games, and that had been awesome. And, okay, maybe it had ended up with them fucking in Mercedes' parents' hot tub, but it still wasn't the same as a regular date.

Maybe once he might have thought it could be that way with Kurt, but Kurt was just too savvy to accept that from him. Kurt got his romance from Adam, not from Finn. What he and Kurt had was incredibly special and awesome, but he was never going to be Kurt's white knight — at least not until they could be  _out,_  in public.

Finn rested his forehead in his hand, leaning on the rim of his snare. "I'm stupid in a lot of ways," he told the picture. "But the world is a lot stupider. Or at least Lima, Ohio is stupider."

Maybe what he needed  _was_  a girl. Like Rachel. Rachel, he could take on a date and nobody would think twice. Right now, the only person who looked at him like that, who smiled and blushed when he talked, was living in Westerville — and he wasn't about to take  _Blaine_  on a date.

He played through the song twice more, to make sure he knew all the changes. At least the guitar part was easy; Michael wouldn't have any trouble picking it up and playing it without rehearsal. He knew exactly how people would misunderstand the lyrics in  _Jesse's Girl,_ thinking they applied to Rachel and Jesse St. James. Maybe they did, a little. But it made him sad, too, to think that was all people would see when they looked at him: an ordinary teenage kid, chasing after a girl.

Then he picked up his phone and called Carl, feeling the familiar tension in the pit of his stomach as he did. Maybe he  _was_  just an ordinary teenage kid, even if the person he was chasing after was unattainable.

* * *

_(The following is an excerpt from[chapter 6 of There's An Awful Lot of Breathing Room](http://archiveofourown.org/works/524843/chapters/934053). -amy)_

Carl was a surprisingly good drummer. Finn had only had two years of lessons, in that brief time when his mother was making more money as an upper level administrator before she decided it was too stressful. After that, he'd had the kit, and he played most days after school when he was at his house instead of Puck's. He wasn't bad; he could keep a beat, and he had a few tricks up his sleeve, but Carl was really good.

"You toured with who, again?" Finn asked, and Carl clearly thought this was hilarious, because his frown intensified and he cleared his throat a lot.

"You wouldn't have heard of them," he said, twirling one stick. It was one of those moves that every drummer seemed to have, but somehow when Carl did it, it took on a whole new meaning. Finn had to look away, blushing.

"I always thought I would like to be in a, you know. A band." Finn kept his eyes averted long enough for him to start wondering if Carl thought this was amusing or not, so eventually he looked back. Carl was just sitting there, gazing at him, and he found himself blushing all over again. Jesus.

"But you're not in one?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Even JV Football took up a lot of time, and now I'm in varsity, and basketball... I pretty much had to drop all my other extracurr- extrac- other stuff when I joined Glee. I don't think I have time for one more thing."

"Mmmm." Something in Carl's voice made him look up. "One more thing. Like this, with... Blaine?"

Finn felt the blood actually leave his face, and he shivered at the absence of circulation. "Uh."

"Relax, my boy. He told me his name himself." Carl set down his drumsticks. "And I told him my name as well, so you don't have to hide that anymore. I know it's... stressful for you, hiding."

Finn nodded uncomfortably. "I... he does kind of take up a lot of time."

Carl stood, and strode over to him, putting both hands on his shoulders. Sitting down like this, looking up at Carl, should have made him even more imposing, but Finn didn't even notice.

"You don't need to worry about that," he said in a gentle voice. "He needs you, and you... well. It's mutual, I suspect."

He nodded again, watching Carl's face carefully, but there was no reaction. "You weren't so crazy about that idea, when we started."

Carl touched his cheek with one hand. "I wasn't crazy about the idea of you taking on one more thing, it's true. But it's too late to worry about that now. He's part of this. Part of you. Isn't he?"

Finn just sat there, caught by the touch of his hand. Eventually Carl smiled, and Finn felt his insides turn to rubber.

"I asked you a question," he murmured.

"Yes sir," Finn replied immediately.

Carl nodded thoughtfully. "Well... I want you to do something, then."

Before Finn could ask him what it was, Carl kissed him hard, knocking him back against the wall. Finn made an entirely embarrassing squeaking noise, but it didn't deter Carl in the slightest.

"Our Wednesday nights," he said into Finn's mouth. Finn barely understood what he'd said, and he had to ask him to repeat it, but by then Carl's mouth was on his neck, and he was tipped back in his chair, sprawled backwards, and oh god he was kneeling on Finn's lap, and Finn could  _feel_  him -

"I want you to spend Wednesday nights with Blaine," Carl said.

Finn said  _yes, sir,_  before he really thought about what he was agreeing to. Eventually he put one hand on Carl's chest and applied some pressure, attempting to regain his rational brain. "What?"

"You need more time with him," he insisted, beginning on Finn's buttons. "He needs it, too. Wednesdays, you drive to... where was that? Columbus?"

"W-Westerville?" There was that squeak again. He was going to have to do something about that, but honestly, he could barely function with Carl's hand inside his shirt like that.

"Right. Yes." Carl's mouth returned to his cheek, and worked its way over to his ear. "You leave basketball practice and go right there, and take care of him. Then, before you to go to bed, you come home. To me."

"Yes sir," Finn managed to get out. "Yes... god - yes."

That was pretty much the end of the talking for a while.

Later, when his voice came back, and he could say more than  _yes_  and  _please_  again, Finn felt safe enough to bring up some of the things he'd wondered about while he was practicing for Glee. He didn't tell Carl what the song was — he was pretty sure he'd die from embarrassment if Carl ever found out he'd done that song, thinking about  _Carl Jesse Howell_  while he was performing — but he could talk  _around_  the song.

"I guess it's funny you brought up Pa- I mean, Blaine tonight," he said. "He really told you his name?"

"And I really told him mine," Carl agreed, lazily stroking the hairs at the nape of Finn's neck with the tips of his fingers. Even after the sensory overload of Carl kneeling over him, Finn shivered at his touch.

"I was just thinking about… all the amazing things I have? And how sometimes there are things I want that I can only get from a particular person. At first, I thought that felt really selfish, to want all those different things, and to not be happy with what I already have. But then, I guess I thought — maybe it's about giving people what they need. And I could be one of those people."

Carl nodded. "With Blaine?"

"With everyone. Everyone who means something. It makes me feel… amazing, to give him what he needs."

He leaned over and kissed Finn's cheek. "That's exactly how I feel, too, my boy."

* * *

Everyone clapped hard for Finn's song the next afternoon in Glee. Kurt wasn't at all upset by that, despite it being a perfect example of how Finn's masculine good looks and hard-rock tendencies got him attention from the rest of Glee club. He wouldn't begrudge Finn his successes, even if they were at his expense.

In this case, Kurt knew he was one of the only people in the audience who actually knew what was going on in Finn's head with regard to this song. Rachel, despite what she might be assuming, was not one of them. She looked flustered and a little bit uncertain, but clapped too. It was only too bad that Jesse St. James wasn't there to hear it as well.

Puck, of course, was the other one. He very casually recorded the performance on his phone, shooting from his hip so as not to draw attention, and tucked it away when Finn was done.

"Can I sing my song now, Mr. Schue?" he asked casually.

"Sure, Puck. Be my guest." Mr. Schue gestured for him to come up.

Puck looked amazing in his black shirt and pants, cool and comfortable and entirely too pleased with himself. Kurt was going to have to talk with Mercedes about discipline, or arrange to do it himself.

Mercedes frowned when five guys bearing instruments walked through the door. "What are they doing here?"

"I invited my brothers from the jazz band on their righteous horns to help me out with my song." He regarded the rest of Glee club. "Since I shaved my mohawk, I started seeing things differently. I recently downloaded every song Sammy Davis Jr. Recorded on iTunes. He was a black Jew, you know? And my inspiration. So, without further ado, I give you one of Sammy's biggest hits."

As the horns started up, Puck snuck over to the trombone player and snatched the hat off his head, fitting it rakishly over his eye, and began to swing. His fancy footwork was unmistakably Toby's — Kurt was sure Britt and Mike would recognize it, at least. Kurt covered his smile with his hand.

_She gets too hungry for dinner at eight_   
_She adores the theater and won't arrive late_   
_She'd never bother with people she'd hate  
_ _That's why the lady is a tramp_

Puck scooted right up to Finn, startling him. Undoubtably Finn was as aware as Kurt how much Puck was acting out at the moment, but he played it off, grinning. Puck worked the whole first row, smiling sweetly at each of them, and not one of them could resist smiling back. Kurt wished briefly he'd chosen to sit in the front, but it was okay. He would give Puck his reward that evening when he came home.

_Doesn't like crap games with barons and earls_   
_Won't go to Harlem in ermine and pearls_   
_Won't dish the dirt with the rest of the girls  
_ _That's why the lady is a tramp_

The expression of joy on his face as he sang right to Mercedes was impossible to ignore. Kurt watched Santana go from startled, to delighted, and — when Puck knelt before Mercedes and offered his hand — appalled.

_She likes the free, fresh wind in her hair_   
_Life without care_   
_She's broke, it's ok_   
_She hates California, it's cold and it's damp  
_ _That's why the lady is a tramp_

He pulled her right from her chair and up onto the floor, and she leapt happily into the melody, while Puck sang harmony with adoring eyes. There was nothing at all that was going to stop Mercedes from singing with — for this week, anyway —  _her_  boy. They ended the song holding hands, Mercedes wailing the last note with signature style, and they all rose to their feet with a standing ovation. All except Santana.

"Come on," Kurt murmured, nudging her as they all climbed down the risers to congratulate him. "Don't tell me you're going to be a stone cold bitch about this. It's just a fundraiser."

"What we just saw was  _not_  just a fundraiser," she snapped. "And how can you be so blazé about this, Hummel? That's  _your_  man she's stealing."

"Mercedes isn't doing anything. This is all Noah." He shrugged. "I'm not worried. He can have… a crush."

Puck's look of bliss was easy to blame on a crush. Kurt knew that experience was more like NRE than anything else in the world. He wasn't going to explain what it  _really_  was: the worship of a slave to his master. Mercedes was being the most benevolent of masters, showing him around like he was a prize possession, and he was eating it up. No, Kurt wasn't worried. He might be a little envious that Puck had sought it out from Mercedes, but he firmly believed that in good time, it would all work out.

Santana, however, wasn't convinced. "You're going to have to do better than that, Kurt," she hissed, rising from her seat. "Puck is losing his fucking mind."

Britt and Mike approached Kurt as Santana stormed out. "What happened?" Mike asked, looking concerned.

"He thinks Puck is cheating on me with Mercedes." Kurt managed to maintain a straight face, even though Britt furrowed her brow and followed Santana's exit path with her eyes. "But he's not."

"Do you have a way to tell?" Mike asked in his soft voice. Kurt had to smile. If it had been anybody but Mike, he would have taken an opportunity to rib him about his gullible nature. As it was, he was grateful.

"Not other than asking. Which is what I do with Puck — and I trust him to tell me the truth."

"Puck tells the truth most of the time," Britt agreed. "So where are we meeting Toby?"

"He's coming to the dance studio. I asked Brad to reserve it for us." He nodded at Brad, who'd joined them silently. "Thanks."

Brad just nodded back, still preferring not to talk at school, even though all of them had heard him speak now on multiple occasions. He followed the three of them to the sunny room down the hall where Kurt had already stashed his bag. They found Toby already at the barre, wearing a tight black t-shirt and jazz pants, working through some stretches and  _rond de jambes._  He paused when he saw Brad and the rest of them in the doorway, and smiled, hurrying over with open arms.

"It's been too long," he said, hugging Brad, who didn't appear to mind being hugged, then Kurt and Brittany. "All of you. I've been a little too caught up in my own business."

"It's only February," Brittany assured him. "You don't have to start planting early vegetables until March."

"Thank goodness I've got you to keep me on track. I'd kill everything if I tried to do it myself." He held out a hand for Mike to shake. "And you… I taught a young man the other day who reminded me of how you must have been when you were twelve. A hell of a dancer."

"Thank you, sir," Mike said, blushing.

"Yeah… I meant to mention him to you, Kurt. His last name was Puckerman. He must be a relative of Puck and Sarah's, somewhere along the line — a cousin or something?"

Kurt nodded. "Maybe? I'll see what I can find out. I don't know anything about his family."

Brad set up at the piano while Mike and Brittany changed into their dance shoes. Mike watched Toby bashfully. "Puck said something about you helping him with the dance routine he did for  _Lady is a Tramp_  today in Glee?"

"Oh, that." Toby grinned. "He's blowin' hot air. I didn't do anything but make some suggestions. But it went well, huh? Did his lady friend appreciate the gesture? He said it was from her favorite Disney movie."

"He was wonderful," Kurt agreed. "Maybe you can help me with my choreography. I can't think of anything appropriate to go with the song I picked."

"Sure, Kurt. It sounds like this assignment Will cooked up is a way for each of you to show off who you are inside." He nodded at Brittany. "I was wondering if you and Mike might want to do some partnering. A little ballet?"

Brittany shrugged and looked at Mike. "I'm game if you are."

Mike swallowed visibly. "Um. I guess so. I've never partnered before, and ballet isn't my strong suit."

"You both know more than I do," Kurt said. "You guys should totally do it. You look amazing when you dance together."

"Y'all will be fine," Toby said, taking each of them by the hand. "I have this young pair in Vocal Adrenaline, freshmen. They were terrified the first time I wanted them to partner, but by the end of the year they were just as good as my advanced students. It's really just a matter of confidence and comfort. You're both comfortable dancing with each other, so at least we don't have to deal with  _eeeeewwwww, boy cooties_."

Mike laughed, but Britt just looked confused. "Is that like bedbugs?"

"Not exactly," Mike said, patting Britt on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

Kurt leaned with his back against the barre and watched while Toby arranged Mike and Britt into position. "First, the basics. Promenades, supported turns, and basic lifts. The most important thing, besides trust, is what?"

"Don't drop your partner?" Mike asked.

"Nope." Toby shook his head and tapped Britt on the nose with his pointer finger. "Don't knee your partner in delicate areas. Because then he just might drop you."

He stood behind Britt. "Prepare for a pirouette."

She bent her knees, held her arms in front of her body. Toby set his hands on her waist and nodded to Mike. "You want to let her do the work, at the beginning. Your job is to keep her from pitching over, but you also want to give her a little nudge to keep her turning. Here." He stepped away and let Mike step into his place. "You try."

The first try ended up with both of them on the floor in a tangle of limbs. The second time, Britt elbowed Mike in the nose. The third time Britt turned twice and came to a wobbly stop, but everyone stayed upright with no injuries.

"It feels weird," she said, tightening her ponytail. "Like I'm trying to dance in a box."

"You'll get used to that," Toby reassured her.

He walked them through promenades and a simple list, and then taught them a short combination, murmuring to Brad before returning to the pair. Kurt recognized the music; it was one of the more advanced pieces in the Dan Coates book that Brad had given him at his last piano lesson.

Toby danced with Mike and Britt twice through to help them get the steps and the timing down. Then he paused while they continued practicing, mopping the sweat off his neck and forehead. "Whew. I can tell I haven't been dancing nearly enough if two kids can wind me. So how about your song, sugar? What'd you cook up to share with your club?" He took Kurt's flannel shirt between two fingers and tugged on it. "Anything to do with this getup?"

He smiled. "It occurred to me that people often forget that kids like me are midwestern Americans, too. So I'm doing 'Pink Houses' by Mellencamp, partly as commentary on the state of politics today, but mostly as a wakeup call. You know? I'm here, I'm queer, notice me, etcetera."

Toby whistled. "A bold choice."

"I'm just not sure what kind of choreography would fit. I could go in completely the opposite direction and get really intricate and complex, but that doesn't feel quite right."

"Hmm." He circled Kurt, looking him over, while he chewed his lip in thought. "You're going to hate me, but... I've got an idea for another song. A different song."

Kurt glared at him. "You're right. I'm going to hate you. I've been working on this all week, and wearing this outfit - I can't give up now, not when people are expecting me to follow through!"

"Just hear me out. You can still do the Mellencamp. And I get what you're going for. But if I remember that song correctly, it's about bein' dissatisfied with the way things are, but not really doin' anything about it. And sugar, that's not the way we queens work. We draw attention to ourselves; make some noise." He gripped Kurt's shoulder. "That's your strength. That's what you need to tap into, to get noticed. Something to say  _here's Kurt."_

It was impossible not to get caught up in Toby's enthusiasm. Kurt smiled despite himself. "I bet you can get your students to do anything you want them to."

"Most of the time," he agreed. "Now, do you know the musical  _Gypsy?_  Ms. Corcoran and I are working with some of her drama students on a selection of numbers -"

"Say no more." Kurt held up a hand. "I've only watched the Rosalind Russell film two dozen times."

"Of course you have," Toby said with a grin.

_Hello, everybody! My name is Kurt! What's yours?_   
_How do you like them eggrolls, Mr. Schuester?_   
_Hold your hats and hallelujah._   
_Fancy's gonna show it to you.  
_ _Ready or not, shhh, here comes Fancy..._

* * *

Finn's text was waiting for Kurt after he'd bid goodbye to Toby and climbed into the Navigator.  _Change of plans tonight. Carl said I should see Patrick tonight. I'm picking up Puck from Mercedes' if you want to come over too._

_That's a silly question,_  he replied.  _I'll be there in ten minutes._

It was unbelievably hot to walk up the stairs to Puck's apartment, unlock the door and hear the sounds of Finn and Puck in the bedroom. Kurt unbuttoned his flannel on the way through the kitchen, discarding it on the linoleum as he walked. By the time he reached the doorway, he was down to a tight black t-shirt. Puck, cuffed to the headboard on his knees, couldn't see him, but Finn turned and caught his breath. The hand holding the metal-tipped flogger dropped to his side.

"Wow," he said in a hushed voice. "Um… yeah."

Kurt gave him his best bedroom eyes. "You like what you see?"

"I always do. But — yeah. Maybe you look especially amazing like that." He held out an arm, and Kurt stepped into the half-embrace, kissing him passionately. Finn was smiling when he pulled back. "What was that for?"

"I didn't get a chance to tell you how much I enjoyed your song today in Glee. Both of you. I was so proud."

Finn turned back to Puck, letting the flogger's tails trail over his bare skin. The marks on his back were beginning to redden nicely. "Now I wish even more that I could stay."

"I said it was okay," Puck murmured. He shifted a little on the bed. Finn reached to unbuckle one wrist while Kurt undid the other, and he sat up stiffly. "This is Carl's night. If he wants Patrick to have it, I'm not gonna argue with him. This was awesome." He put a hand out, stroking the cotton of Kurt's t-shirt. "That flannel and denim this week… you look damn hot in drag, baby."

"It does feel like that," Kurt admitted. He moved in close to Puck's sweaty body, giving him a kiss as well. "I'm glad  _you_  approve. Toby thinks I should do a different song. He had me rehearse a whole dance number this afternoon."

Finn set the flogger down and crouched down beside the bed, facing them both. "You can wear anything you want to, Kurt, but I guess I don't really get how singing Mellencamp is supposed to be showing us who you are."

Kurt tangled his fingers in the heavy leather tails of the flogger. "Because there's a lot more to me than I show to the world. You know that better than anyone. The person I am with you, Noah — it's different from the person I am when I'm with you, Finn. But it's still me."

"I think I'm a different person when somebody's handling me," Puck said thoughtfully. "Like, when Adam met me, he called me  _an open box._  A bottom without a Top." He glanced up at Kurt. "My choice, I know, but it didn't feel like I had one, then."

"I'm not blaming you, sweetheart." Kurt kissed him again. "But yes, that's exactly right. When I'm getting what I need, I do a better job of giving  _you_  what you need. I feel less secure when my box doesn't have a lid. Or when it doesn't have a bottom, for that matter. A four-sided box would be pretty unstable."

"I've got a whole bunch of lids," Puck said, grinning. "Mercedes is more like a tea cosy."

Finn laughed, but he sounded uncertain. When Kurt saw him reach for the hickory wood box beside him on the floor, he understood why. He set it on the bed in front of Puck. "Carl took the box thing to a whole new level, I guess, with the, um, plug training."

Puck touched the box quizzically. "But wasn't that box bigger?"

"Yeah, this isn't it. This is something else Carl made for me. The box, I mean. What's in it, he had a friend make it for him. She's another Top, in Columbus, who does leather work. Her name's Six."

"Finn," Kurt murmured. "You're babbling."

"Sorry. Yeah." He took a deep breath, then opened the box. "This is mine. He had it made for me. I wanted you to see it."

Puck's eyes lit up, and he reached for the box, dragging it into his lap. "Holy shit."

"Yeah," Finn agreed. "That was pretty much my reaction too." He watched Puck stroke the edge of the collar with the tips of his fingers. "You can, uh. Pick it up, if you want to."

Puck lifted the collar out of the box, holding it up to admire it from all angles. "I'm not dissing my collar, but… this is, like, a work of art."

Finn squirmed a little, his cheeks red. "I know. I don't really want to know how much he paid her for it."

Kurt took Finn's hand and smiled at him encouragingly. "It's okay, Finn. Your box has a Top. Even if, most of the time, you're the Top to somebody else's box. You need stability as much as you like to provide it for others."

He nodded, watching Puck settle the collar back into the brown velvet lining the box. "That's kind of what I was thinking, too. Even if I can't have other stuff with Carl, I'm grateful for this." Leaning over, he kissed Puck, then Kurt, smiling back. "Thanks for not freaking out about it."

Kurt's phone buzzed with another text as Finn got ready to leave. It was an unpleasant, though not entirely unexpected one, and he sighed. "Well, that went about as well as he thought it would."

"What did?"

Kurt tipped his phone to show Finn the screen:  _Dinner plans with Will are off, maybe permanently_. "Toby and Mr. Schue. He was trying to fix things, but I think right now they're just unfixable."

Finn looked distressed. "That sucks. What did Toby do?"

"What do you mean, what did  _Toby_  do?" Kurt said, narrowing his eyes. "What makes you assume  _he_  did something?"

"Relax," Puck interjected. "You guys are not taking sides." He carefully slipped his shirt back on. "You want to give him a call, since he drove all this way out here to talk to Mr. Schue?"

"But what about you?"

"Dude, I think I can deal being on my own for one night." He made a shooing motion at Kurt and Finn. "How many Tops can one guy handle, anyway? I'll call Tess. She wanted me to tell her how things were going since we got home."

That was a reassuring thought. Kurt sent Toby a return text as he retrieved his flannel.  _You want to come over for dinner instead? It's just me and Sarah tonight._

Kurt walked with Finn out to the parking lot. "If the truck has issues, call right away," he said. "You are  _not_  missing school tomorrow, no matter what happens tonight with Patrick. I'm doing my song in Glee."

"I won't miss it," Finn promised. "My mom would kill me if I did that again. Carl told me to come over afterward, but then I'll go home and get a little sleep."

* * *

_Author's note: in the remainder of_  [ _chapter six of Breathing Room_  ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/524843/chapters/934053) _, Finn visits Blaine in Westerville, gets to see him perform with the Warblers for the first time, and has an uncomfortable realization._

* * *

When he got back to the house, Kurt found Sarah sprawled on her bed, looking at some large detailed drawings. He paused in her doorway while she rolled them up.

"Are those blueprints?"

She shrugged. "Kind of. This CAD thing I'm doing with Lauren, for independent study. You know, she's really smart."

"Well, so are you." He couldn't help smiling fondly. It made her scowl and roll her eyes.

"You don't have to give me the school's-important-and-I-should-do-well pep talk. I already know all that. Noah's the stupid one."

Kurt was taken aback. "He's not stupid!"

"I mean for not trying to do better in school. He totally could."

"Oh. Okay. For a minute, I thought you were… never mind." He came in and sat down on the edge of her bed. "Toby — you remember him, right? Mr. Schue's boyfriend? Or he was, anyway. I don't know what's going on between them right now. Anyway… his plans fell through and I invited him over for dinner."

"Sure, we've got enough chicken for three. Tatenui and Carole aren't getting back from dinner until nine."

Kurt remembered what Toby had said at their rehearsal after school. "He mentioned he had a new dance student. Jacob Puckerman. Is there someone in your family named Jacob?"

Sarah hesitated before nodding slowly. "He's my dad's other kid. He had an affair, and then there was Jacob, and then he left. My dad took me to meet him. I see him about once a month."

Hearing the words  _dad's other kid_ made the hairs on the back of Kurt's neck prickle. "Noah never mentioned having a half-brother."

"That's because he doesn't know." She made a face. "He doesn't  _want_  to know. But yeah, Jake's a good dancer."

"Wait, wait…" He touched her knee. "What do you mean, he doesn't want to know?"

Sarah leaned over the edge of her bed and tucked the drawings underneath. "I mean anything our dad's done, anything he's made, Noah doesn't want anything to do with it. So he asked me not to tell Noah."

Kurt felt a familiar surge of anger toward Aaron Puckerman. "So he's asking you to lie to your brother about your  _other_  brother? That doesn't sound very fair to me."

"What's the big deal? It's not hurting Noah at all. Jake doesn't care."

"You don't really believe that," Kurt said. "I know how you feel about Noah."

Her eyes flashed at him. "It's not because he's related to me. It's because he's the only one who took care of us when everything sucked.  _That's_  what matters. I don't give a shit that he's my blood or whatever. You're my brother. Finn's my brother. Hell, Adam's kind of my brother too. Jacob's my dad's other kid."

"And your dad?" he asked quietly. "I don't think he did a lot of  _caring_  about you."

She chewed on her lip. "He did," she said at last. "Off and on. I'm not saying he was the best kind of dad, but he's trying. And I don't know when it's better to give up and when it's good to keep trying. Like, Timmy gave up on him when he ran away to New York, but when he came back, he said he was willing to try again. With my Ma, too. Noah's still not sure. Me, I think as long as he's not going to take me away from you and Tatenui, I can live with dinner once a week."

Kurt hugged Sarah hard, trying not to let the fear overwhelm him. "He's not going to take you away from us."

"Yeah, that's what he says now. But he says a lot of things." She squirmed until he let her go. "I try not to listen too hard to what he says. It just ends up pissing me off."

"That sounds like a good plan." He smiled at her. "You're pretty smart."

Sarah glared at him. "If you say  _for an eleven-year-old,_ I'm seriously going to hurt you."

"I wasn't going to say that," he promised. He reached for the swatch board on top of her dresser. "I was thinking we could try some more paint colors. If the gray wasn't working for you, these taupes and ambers might do the trick."

She looked dubiously at his jeans and flannel. "I'm not sure if you're qualified to give me fashion advice anymore, but… okay?"

* * *

_"Noah?"_  Tess' voice was tentative in the identification, but there was a confidence there that Puck hadn't heard from anyone else since he'd left Tessera.

"It's me, Lady Tess," he affirmed. He sat in the center of his bed, looking at the cuffs Finn had left, attached to the chains in the corners. "How's it hanging?"

_"Well, Young Master Me."_  Now her voice was teasing.  _"You can expect that it'll be your bottom hanging, with a strap about to fall, my dear."_

"Uh -" He tried to laugh, but the suggestion was too specifically accurate that he couldn't manage more than a strangled cough. "Sorry... ma'am?"

_"Very nice, Noah,"_  she said.  _"I'm very glad to hear from you."_

"Yeah, uh... I've been spending most of the week with a friend, but I wanted to call, because... we had that conversation, and you told me to, uh, make a list? Of pros and cons of moving back into Kurt's house."

She sounded delighted.  _"How wonderful! Of course I want to hear that, Noah. I'm so glad you've called."_

Now he did laugh, and it was mostly at the excitement in her voice. There was no way he could deny that she actually sounded happy to talk to him - which was too fucking weird for words, but appeared to be true. "Um, yeah. Me too. So it turns out that the list is a little longer than I expected, but here's what I've got." He unfolded the paper he'd tucked into his back pocket.

_"They're almost always longer than we want them to be, darling. That's quite fine, Noah. Go on, please."_

Puck eyed the list. "Do you want the pros first, or the cons?"

There was a silence, in which he could hear her taking gentle breaths, over the line.  _"Noah, which feels scarier?"_

"Honestly? Neither one, right now. I think I could do okay living on my own, but..." He smiled, feeling that softness in his head that came when he thought about Kurt handling him, and the way Mercedes had done that, too, for the past two days.

_"Then start with that 'but,' please. Be glad I'm not there to swat your bottom, hearing that word,"_  Puck heard, and he could envision her doing just that.  _"It doesn't matter which side, we can hear them both at once."_

"Okay, so... I think the bad parts." He looked longingly at the handcuffs again. "They're not so scary anymore, but they might be kind of a pain, for everyone? To have a baby around, I mean. Like, this is my choice, not theirs, and I don't know if they should suffer because of me. And even if they're okay with having her around, I'm going to be more busy. Maybe a lot more. And that means they won't get to see as much of me, and I won't be able to do as much for them."

_"Excellent beginning, darling. Babies, all babies, are… inconvenient. But..."_  He could hear the heaviness of the usually forbidden word, and could sense that she'd used it deliberately, to get his attention.  _"They are also small molecules of pure magic. Each person in your family, they'll find their own magic, with your daughter. And, sweetheart -"_  He wasn't certain, but he thought he could hear a great deal of longing in her voice. Except it was Tess, and there was too much control there for him to tell properly, without seeing her in person.  _"There will be a new kind of magic, for each of your family, in you. They will watch you with your small person, and they will experience a sense of wonder, and an even deeper sense of love - not only for her, but for you as well. It's part of the magic that babies have, I promise you, Noah."_

He couldn't suppress his smile at her enthusiasm. "I'm really looking forward to all of that."

_"Me too."_

"Okay." He looked over at the other column, feeling the blush beginning on his neck. "So I was just thinking about what Kurt and Finn and Adam told me, at Tessera last Sunday morning. Kurt said he thought if I could get what I needed, what I really needed, that I wouldn't feel... so guilty, staying there with him and his dad." Even talking about it now was hard.

_"Oh, yes, Noah. And you do have needs, don't you? I understand. And it's fine, I promise you - or I wouldn't have had the lot of you out here to spend time with me."_  There was a tremendous amount of confidence in that short statement, enough to turn his ears red.  _"Oh, yes. And, my sweet boy, that kind of trust in another person is not something that's easy to put out there in the world. It never is. And you are so beautiful, and brave, for beginning to do that. I am so proud of you."_

Her praise wasn't helping his blush any, but he tried to acknowledge it graciously. "Thanks," he murmured.

_"If it helps, it eases my mind to know that you are accepting Burt's offer of a place to stay with your daughter. Burt is a good, steady man, Noah. He will keep you safe as you watch over your baby girl, do you see? All new parents need that safety - there's nothing but tragedy when new parents are lacking that. You would manage on your own, I have no doubt, but there's a difference between determination and blind stubbornness. With the first comes opportunity. Burt will help open doorways, for both of you, and at your age, I strongly believe that is important. Do you understand?"_

"Sure. I think so."

_"When you have people, family, who love you so much, Noah, it's a blessing, and a grace - not for you, but for them."_

"Yeah," he said, nodding emphatically. "Yeah. That's totally it. It feels bad to do it for myself, but if I'm doing it for her, or for the rest of them, that's... a lot better."

_"And that is exactly right, my boy: you are doing it for her. You've shown us all that you are independent, capable of being responsible on your own. The world knows that you could do it alone with your little one in your arms, but with so many people who love you, it would be selfish to try and do it that way. She deserves her own chance to benefit from having a big family, and to blossom in the midst of all that love. And love herself only knows… those folk, who love you - they've love for that little girl, too."_

All the ideas were overwhelming, but he could tell she was making sense. "Yeah. I think I actually believe that. I want her to have all of that."

_"Try to do less thinking and more feeling."_  There was a wry tone to her voice, as if it were something she didn't say very often.  _"And then once you know how you feel, Noah, let your thoughts in. There's balance to all things, sweetheart."_

It was the word feel that reminded him of the other reason he'd called. "Do you remember how we were talking about my hair? The way I had that stuff in it, that made it stand up, and you said -"

_"Mmm, yes. Nothing but a peacock trying to look like he's got a bigger cock than anyone else. And, Noah, a little of that is personal bias. I do like to be able to touch someone's hair properly without being stabbed."_

He stifled a laugh. "Yeah, well... I had a friend cut it all off. So you don't have to worry about that anymore."

There was a shocked silence, and he heard her delicately clear her throat.  _"Noah."_  It wasn't the appreciative tone that he was expecting, either. " _You will explain, right now!"_

He figured he owed it to her to give more than a flippant response. "Okay, well... I used to have this really curly hair. People sometimes call it a 'jewfro?'"

_"Noah."_

"I'm getting there," he said hurriedly. "I cut the mohawk last summer, when I was in Santa Fe, the summer I turned sixteen. That's when I met the triad that taught me about... all this stuff I need? And it was kind of a way for me to... you know, to separate the kid I was from the person I was becoming? I felt different. And when I got back to Lima, I felt even more different. And now, talking to you, I realized I felt different again. That maybe I didn't need the mohawk anymore."

_"Ah. I don't think I made that connection before. You've talked about your triad, a little. I wish I could meet them someday. And darling… I understand, I truly do - but Noah… well."_  She sighed.  _"It's gone now? It sounds as if you perhaps see yourself as I do. You cut it off. Who helped you with that?"_

"It was -" He paused. He still wasn't sure how to describe the relationship he had with Shelby. "My friend? I didn't want to ask Finn or Kurt, but I thought... I don't know, there aren't too many people I trust the way I trust her, I guess. Her name's Shelby. She's the choir director at Toby's school."

There was a sudden choking on the end of the line, and Tess was coughing hard.

"Lady Tess?"

_"Noah,"_  she said, her voice sort of faint at first.  _"Well. All right, young man. I know her. She's… I remember her as a very sensitive person, very protective."_

"She's been good to me," Puck agreed. "Not even sure how I managed that, but... yeah. At first I thought she was manipulating me, and then she thought I was, and we kind of figured out what was really going on. I know she was married to Davis, a long time ago, and she had Jesse with him. And then I found out the thing she had with Carl, but she won't talk to me about that. Says it's off limits, and I can tell she feels kind of bad about that? But I have to respect it."

_"That does sound like the Shelby I knew, long ago. Noah… That's my very good boy, Noah, to respect her wishes, as she's asked. Now, I would like to ask you to keep me informed, please, about the relationship between you and Ms. Shelby. No hiding, if you please, Noah. I do trust Shelby, to a point - but there are limits. Understand that above all. But I wish to understand - oh, hell."_

The word made him even more uneasy. He didn't recall ever hearing Tess sound that cross, not even when he'd stepped out of bounds. She sighed before going on.

_"Noah, it is my hope, most sincerely, that you'll talk to me about your relationship with Shelby. I have a responsibility to you, young man, and I will not shirk it."_

"Okay." He felt a little scared by her vehemence. "Yeah. I don't really know what kind of relationship we're having, but... I'll keep you informed, for sure."

_"Just talk to me, Noah,"_  she said.  _"And do not feel as if you need to hide. My boy, if I even begin to think that you need discipline, or that you're out of line, I will tell you. And since you aren't strictly mine - although I do enjoy the thought - I'll leave it to your Tops to handle that discipline, and I won't betray our confidence unless I feel it's necessary. Does that sound less frightening?"_

Puck had to wonder what Tess might think necessary included, but he nodded. "I do trust you, Lady Tess."

_"Sweet boy."_  He could hear the care in her voice. It hurt somehow to hear that. He hadn't missed the fact that she'd called him  _my boy,_  as if he were truly that, rather than belonging to Kurt or Adam or Finn.  _"Thank you. All right now, darling. You'll call me whenever you need me, and I shall spank your bottom, if I find you haven't. Call me when you're doubting, or unsure. I like to listen, and it always seems to help my boys. Doubt does not imply discipline, darling. Now, you'll send me a picture, now that your peacock plumes are gone?"_

He grinned. "Oh - actually, I had Ms. Pillsbury take a picture yesterday. Can I text it to you?"

_"Yes, please, Noah. Now. You mentioned something about a friend, earlier? I don't want to leave you waiting for that conversation."_

"It's kind of another long story, Lady Tess, but -"

_"I suggest you put it succinctly, and we'll look for details when we need them."_

"The Cheerios had this fundraiser, and I said I'd help out. They had students volunteer to be, uh... slaves? So our friend Mercedes, um, bought me. For the week. And it's been really... nice."

Puck heard a funny noise over the phone, and he'd have sworn that Tess squeaked, but that wasn't something that Tess really… did, so he figured it must simply be noise on the line.

_"I see, Noah. What are the terms of the slavery, please?"_  She was so matter of fact about it, as if slavery was no big deal. He hesitated a little too long, and she pressed,  _"Noah."_

"Ma'am," he said quickly. "Five days, dawn to dusk, light labor but no sexy stuff. I mean, I would have done that, if she'd... but she's never had a boyfriend before. I don't want to make her uncomfortable. So I'm making her dinner and we're, you know. Snuggling."

_"Ah,"_  she said.  _"Touch is very important for people, Noah, and if she's single, a safe boundary for touch, that's extremely important to respect. Otherwise, it sounds lovely... that's actually a very common fundraiser. So she's enjoyed giving you orders, then, and you're enjoying fulfilling them?"_

"Yeah," he said. "I know it's just a game, but... I couldn't treat it like one. And she's letting me make it a big deal. I feel..." He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and then spill over. "Really lucky."

_"Oh, Noah - how wonderful. I'm so happy for you - oh darling, go on. You let go. It's just me, it's just Tess here with you - you're safe with me, my Noah."_

He still felt pretty stupid, crying over the phone like this, but it wasn't all that different from the way it was when he did that with Adam. "Thanks," he managed to choke out.

_"Good boy,"_  she breathed, her voice soft and tender, in a way he'd only ever heard Adam manage before.  _"Let me have all of that silly burden, you let me hold it, Noah. I do love you, boy,"_  she said a little more briskly.  _"You let it go, get it out... we've talked about holding unnecessary burdens before. There's no shame in release, not in any kind of release, not tears, or frustration, or sexual. You know this, my boy. You're all right."_

He wiped his eyes on a corner of his bed sheet. "I think this might be one of the hardest things about living by myself? Like, maybe if I moved back in with Kurt and Burt and Sarah, that I would... let go, more. Or maybe I would just have less to let go."

_"Noah. You've told me earlier, you're going to move in. You are not going to go back on your word. I expect, my boy, that you will stop this nonsense. Or I will have to spank your bottom. And don't you think for a moment that I won't come out there to do so myself, Noah. You will let yourself be cared for, and you will never be without a home, so long as I - and any number of other people - live."_  Her tone was tart, and the sarcasm stung as well as a swat.  _"And if you're needing it right this immediate moment, as it seems you do, I will find a way to get one of your Tops to you to ensure you're spanked properly."_

"Oh," he said, gulping a little. There was no doubt that he did need it, but he'd already resigned himself to not getting it tonight. "Um. Finn's in Westerville tonight, taking care of Patrick, and Kurt's visiting with Toby, but... I could call him?"

_"You will not call Kurt,"_  she said firmly. _"It is not your responsibility to do so. It is my responsibility, young man. Now. Where are you, and what room are you currently occupying?"_

"I'm at my apartment. I mean, Carl's apartment."

_"Yes."_  Her tone was maybe even more serious than he'd ever heard it.  _"I know that apartment. You are going to get up, close the living room blinds, and park your person in the corner - between the window wall, and the kitchen wall. Do you understand me? Do I hear you getting up and going there?"_

He'd already scrambled to his feet. "Yes, ma'am."

_"Excellent. Now. You are going to drop your jeans or sweatpants, and your underwear as well. You put your nose on that wall, and you do. Not. Move. I am listening, and I have a timeframe in mind. If I hear objections, or movement before that time is up… Noah, it won't go well for you."_

The warning in her voice was clear, and he was moving almost without thought. Part of him wanted to push it, and push it hard, but he knew better. Which was comforting, even though he didn't want it to be. He whimpered as he obeyed, feeling the tension dropping away.

_"Is your nose in that corner?"_

"Yes ma'am," he managed.

_"Good boy,"_  she responded.  _"Your time starts now."_

"But - how long?"

_"Until I say,"_  came the inexorable tone.  _"I will restart the timer now."_

This time, he did not say a word.

* * *

Carl opened his menu, smiling across the table at Emma. She smiled back, her face pink. She was the very picture of subservience, but he thought he knew her well enough now to be able to tell the difference between resistance and submission. It would take a little time to be certain which one this was, but he was willing to be patient.

He was about to offer her a glass of wine when his phone vibrated in a familiar pattern. Carl frowned, glancing down at it.  _Tess._

"I'll be right back," he told the girl, noting the look of relief. She hadn't noticed his phone. Perhaps she thought he was being a gentleman and giving her space by excusing himself. He retreated to the quiet corner near the men's room and answered the call.

"Tess," he said urgently. "I'm not exactly -"

_"Noah is in need, and you will do exactly as I say, please,"_  came her calm tones over the phone.

"I can't, Tess," he said. He took a deep breath, feeling proud of himself for standing up for himself, and repeated, "I can't. Emma and I are on a date, and -"

_"Carl Jesse Howell."_

"Tess?" He hated that his breath squeaked on her name.

_"We had this conversation last week. I want you to ask yourself, right now: is she really ready for what you are attempting to introduce?"_

Carl felt a shock ring through his system, looking in his mind's eye at the image of Emma, her inadequate response, and the sudden certainty that Emma was afraid to submit. And yet, if he handled this right….

"Give me ten minutes, please, T- ma'am," he amended, putting his phone away as he returned swiftly to his table. He caught the waiter on the way and taking care of the check. He wasn't worried anymore; his brain had switched over to being entirely concerned about Emma and her needs.

Now he could see her fear clearly in her expression, her demeanor. He took his seat across from her, not reaching for her hand, but resting his own within touching distance. The fact that she did not immediately reach for him, that told him volumes. He gave her a gentle smile.

"Emma," he said, "You've had a salad and tea, and I'm pleased with that, that's excellent progress since our last meeting. We're not going to do any more today."

"Oh." She looked more relieved than worried. "I - okay."

"It's fine," he assured her. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'll take you home, and then you'll be free to relax on your own, in any of the ways we discussed. All right? Make it a good night."

He ushered her out to the Corvette, and within minutes she was smiling and waving farewell as she unlocked the door to her house. Then he picked up his phone, took a deep breath, and dialed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tess' request, and Carl's follow-through, can be found only in [Donutverse 50 Kinky Ways chapter 17](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1824019). Don't miss it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt sings Mellencamp for Glee club and tastes Brittany's lip gloss. Burt gets a call from Sarah's principal and finds out another piece of Carole's past. Mercedes and Puck end their slave agreement. Lauren helps Kurt prepare for performing Rose's Turn and argues with his dad about Sarah and BDSM and hoagies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is full of quoting from the episode, with several tweaks to make it Donutverse-accurate. No warnings. 
> 
> The concept of an "open box" for a submissive without a Dominant (a bottom without a top) is my original idea. If anyone knows of a different term for this kind of person, I'd be really interested to hear about it.
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> -amy

"Mr. Schue? I'd like to get us started." Kurt leaned on the midwestern twang as best as he could. "I think I've finally found a song that expresses my true voice."

The expression Mr. Schue wore on his face was partially vindicating, but mostly depressing. Kurt wanted to yell at him on Toby's behalf, to say completely inappropriate things that had nothing to do with their teacher-student relationship.  _You've both messed up. He deserves another chance._ And, especially,  _right now he needs you more than ever._

Toby hadn't gotten specific at dinner about what was happening to him. Maybe it was because Sarah had been there, and maybe because Kurt himself was still just a kid. Kurt didn't blame him, either way. But Kurt had seen the sick, frightened look on his face when Toby had said  _Will's scared, and I don't blame him._  He was pretty sure he knew what that had to mean, and it scared him, too.

But here they were in the middle of the choir room, and none of that was okay to talk about at school. Not with Mr. Schue, his teacher, even if he was also Mr. Schue —  _Will —_ his friend Toby's boyfriend.

Mr. Schue was giving him a measured look, and his only response was a bemused, "Okay."

Kurt nodded at the bassist and drummer from the jazz band. "Gentlemen?"

They hadn't needed much in the way of rehearsal for "Pink Houses _,"_  but when Kurt had called them last night after Toby had gone home and explained what he'd been thinking about doing with "Rose's Turn," both Peter and Jason had declined to accompany him. He was pretty sure he was going to have to use a karaoke track. Maybe he could persuade Lauren to help him hook up the sound in the auditorium again.

When Peter had asked, "Why isn't Finn playing for you? Aren't you guys, like, friends now?" Kurt had panicked a little, but he'd managed to stammer something reasonably believable about Finn being nothing more than a barely tolerable nuisance in his father's life. He wondered what Peter had seen that had led him to call them  _friends._ Maybe Kurt had made the mistake of hugging Finn in the parking lot, or smiling at him a little too hard within sight of the general student population, or something like that. He was going to have to be more careful.

Finn hadn't called him last night, but Kurt hadn't really expected him to. After driving back from Westerville and stopping at Carl's, he was likely exhausted. Kurt had received a cryptic text from him that morning, though, saying  _Puck had a tough night, but I think he got what he needed._  He hadn't offered any clarification.

Now Finn was watching Kurt with guarded curiosity, smiling and nodding in time as the drums started up. He hadn't heard Kurt rehearsing, but Kurt knew he understood the music wasn't the most important thing in regard to this assignment. Kurt forced his voice into a growly parody of Mellencamp's classic good ol' boy sound.

_There's a black man with a black cat livin' in a black neighborhood_  
 _He's got an interstate runnin' through his front yard_  
 _You know he thinks that he's got it so good_  
 _And there's a woman in the kitchen cleanin' up the evenin' slop_  
 _And he looks at her and says, hey darlin'  
_ _I can remember when you could stop a clock_

Puck was watching him with such bemused concentration that Kurt had a hard time staying in character, but he managed to keep going through the first refrain. The tentative applause that followed told Kurt most of the rest of Glee club didn't get it either. At least Finn, Puck and Brittany were smiling, but he was pretty sure they would have no matter what.

Kurt fixed his eyes on Mr. Schue in the front row, sauntering up to him. "Is there something wrong, Mr. Schue?"

"I don't really think you got the point of the assignment," Mr. Schue said. He looked bitter. "This was about finding a song that expresses who you are. That song didn't really sound like you."

Kurt sniffed. "Well, I'm sorry if I didn't live up to your expectations."

"No — this group needs you to be  _you_ , Kurt. You can literally do things that no one else can."

_Like you suddenly think you understand me._ The anger burned, hot and sudden inside him, but he kept his voice quiet. "I'm not a box. There are more than four sides to me."  _Even without a Top or a bottom, I'm still worth something._

Mr. Schue shook his head. "Don't lose track of who you are just because it might be easier to be somebody else."

It was the kind of patronizing teacher bullshit Kurt would have expected to hear from Mr. Schue, but it still stung. He couldn't contain all the parts of himself in a box without a bottom or a top, but nobody was going to  _see_  who he was if he tried to contain it all, either. He turned and walked away as Mr. Schue called for them to take five.

"Kurt." He turned back to see Britt jogging over. "That song was hot."

"Yeah, well, it didn't exactly accomplish what I wanted it to."

"But you haven't done the other song yet. The one you and Toby rehearsed. Isn't that the point? The difference between the two?" She smiled. "And who says a box has to be a rectangle, anyway? Can't it be… I don't know, star-shaped? You can have all the sides you want."

" _Merci,_ Britt," he murmured, smiling back. "I should have known you'd get it. When are you and Mike going to do yours?"

"I haven't convinced him he won't drop me yet. Even if he does, it happens all the time in Cheerios." She shrugged. "So I was wondering if you still had that green couch. You know, in your basement?"

"For now. I'm having a hard time imagining getting rid of it, at this point, even if we don't really have room for it anymore." He cocked his head. "Why?"

"Because you looked like you could need a little company.  _Gypsy,_  after Cheerios practice on your couch, you and me and a bowl of popcorn?" She gazed at him through her lashes. "You can tell me all about those other sides you keep hidden from the world."

"Okay." Britt was definitely flirting. That was nothing new, although she hadn't tried that with  _him_  since they'd been in middle school. It was puzzling, but Kurt had learned a long time ago it was best to take Britt at face value. "I'm not sure what's going on with Finn after school, but Noah will be having dinner with his dad."

She looked at him disdainfully. "Puck doesn't have a dad."

"He's working on it. But — yes. Gypsy. That sounds nice."

Puck ended up being whisked away by Mercedes before Kurt could check in with him. All he got from Finn was another text:  _Rachel needs a reality check about what's important, so I'm going to get her one. I took a video of your performance. I'll call you later._ There wasn't much Kurt could do about it other than send a quick acknowledgement, along with a mention that Britt would be over at his house after practice. It wasn't like Finn needed to know every detail about what Kurt was doing. Cheerios was getting more intense with each practice. Not to mention it wasn't easy to switch between his Mellencamp persona and his cheerleading persona. It was good to get a break from having to try so hard.

Britt listened in silence while Kurt called Puck on the way home. When Puck didn't answer, he tried Mercedes' phone, but that went to voice mail, too. Finally he sighed and tucked his phone away.

"When Santana's on her period, she gets pretty pissy," Britt confided. "And when we're on it at the same time, we get downright mean. But you guys don't have that problem. So what's the matter?"

"Besides the fact that we can never find one another?" He shrugged. "I think sometimes it's hard to remember, when it gets complicated, that we really still want the same things. Just a couple months ago, we were saying  _I love you_ for the first time, and it felt almost impossible that it could be true. And now, we're all so wrapped up in other things, other people. But when we're together, it's just as good as it ever was. It's better, really, because we know each other better."

"Five people is a lot of knowing," she said solemnly.

Kurt knew better than to try to lie to Brittany, but he couldn't avoid blushing as he nodded. "You know that's a secret, right? That there are five of us?"

"You and Puck kiss at school," she recited, like it was something she'd memorized, "but not you and Finn or Finn and Puck. Puck talks to Max on the phone. Finn has a secret he never will tell."

"That's it." He exhaled, then giggled. "Sometimes we do kiss at school, the three of us."

"Only when nobody else is around. Because then, it doesn't make a sound." She put a finger to her lips. "Silent kissing."

Kurt's house was empty when they arrived. It was a little strange not to have Sarah there in the kitchen, but the note on the white board calendar in Sarah's marker color said  _Dinner at Frances'._ Kurt took a bowl of grapes out of the fridge, wrote  _Do not enter under any circumstances, I am making out with a girl_  in the space under Sarah's note, then gestured for Britt to follow him downstairs.

"It's funny, being here again." She touched the walls with gentle fingers as they descended the half-staircase to the ground level. "When we did Single Ladies down here, I realized you'd painted. Wasn't there wood paneling before?"

"Not since my mom was alive. I think it was white for a while after that. This used to be my playroom when we were kids, but when I convinced my dad to get new furniture, we just moved it down here." Kurt looked over the basement room, the green couch, the big heavy wooden coffee table, and fought down a wave of sentimentality. "And now… things are so different. Everything. I barely feel like a kid at all anymore. I mean, god, we all went away for the weekend together, the five of us, and my dad and Carole and Sarah. Noah's brother, too, and his boyfriend." He gazed across the room at the doorway to his bedroom. "Max stayed in that room,  _my_  room, with me and Noah. Last week, before we left for vacation."

Brittany looked impressed. "Yeah? I didn't know you did that with other people's boyfriends."

"He's my boyfriend too, Britt. Like me and Finn and Noah."

She tugged him down onto the couch with both hands, so he was seated close beside her. Her skin was warm, and her bare thigh against his felt smooth and strange. "Puck has a lot of people. And you do, too."

Kurt put an arm around Britt's waist, chuckling. "I don't know who has more, Finn or Noah. It depends on how you count them. Like, does Mercedes count? They're not  _doing_  anything."

"I saw Puck kiss her in the hallway," Britt pointed out. He watched in fascination as she swept her hair back into a quick bun and tucked under the ends. "On the cheek. That's something."

"Yeah, but… honestly, compared to everything else we're doing?" He shrugged, resting his head on her shoulder.

"A kiss can be a big deal. Bigger than sex, sometimes. I would kiss anybody, but not everybody would."

Kurt nodded slowly. "There's a boy… a boy Finn is seeing. Patrick. He won't kiss him."

Britt didn't miss a beat. "Patrick won't kiss Finn, or Finn won't kiss Patrick?"

"The first one. I can't imagine not wanting to kiss Finn." He glanced up at her. " _You_  kissed Finn."

"I've made out with everybody at school. Except you." She smiled. "Finn was a good kisser. He didn't want to kiss me other places, though."

Kurt couldn't help shuddering. "No. I can't blame him for not being interested in that."

"People get to say no," she agreed. "It's my favorite thing, but not everybody likes the things I like."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed. "I really, really understand that statement."

Britt leaned over and kissed him on the lips. "Yeah, I thought you would. Even if you didn't used to know what you like, you figured it out."

He licked his lips experimentally. "Your lip gloss tastes like root beer. It's weird."

"It doesn't always taste like that. The figuring out, is that what you did with Finn?"

Kurt could tell she wasn't going to be deterred. "Kind of. I think with Finn, I did all the things I was sure I already wanted to do, although later he pushed me a little, and that was good too. With Noah, I did the things I never thought anybody would ask for from a boy like me."

She nodded. "And Max? What do you do with him?"

Kurt laughed, feeling his face flush again. "I, um. I think I get the romance I always wanted. If you consider  _romance_  to include ropes and leather."

"I think the best romance does," said Britt. She picked up the remote control and snuggled up close to Kurt. "With you, this is my favorite thing: watching these movies, the ones we watched a hundred times together since we were kids. Not that we're not still kids."

"Carole says we're grownups now. My dad thinks so too, I think, but Carole's the one who said it. That we couldn't do the things we do and not be treated like grownups."

Britt laughed. "That's so not true. It's  _how_  you do it that makes you a grownup. And anyway, I think I'd rather not be one yet. There's still too many kid things I want to do before I grow up."

That made him smile. "Can't we do kid things after we grow up?"

"Ask me again in another five years," she said.

* * *

Carole was all too happy to accept Burt's invitation to another dinner out, but the preoccupied look on his face when he picked her up at her house worried her.

"What's the matter?" she asked, closing the truck door behind her. "Is something going on with Kurt?"

"Oh, yeah, something's going on with him all right, but I'm assuming it's temporary. He's in the basement with our neighbor, Brittany Pierce. There was a sign on the white board saying  _Do not enter, I'm making out with a girl._  If he really wants me involved, he'll ask. I'm not going to get in the middle of whatever statement he's making." Burt sighed. "No, this is about Sarah. I got a call on my voice mail from her principal saying he wants to meet with me."

"I thought she was doing well in school?"

"I thought so, too," Burt agreed. "Anyway, I called him back, but it was already after hours and I had to leave a message. I'll make an appointment tomorrow."

Carole hesitated before offering, "I'll go with you?"

He flashed her a smile. "Thanks. It's easier for me to get away from the garage in the middle of the day."

"If it doesn't feel too overwhelmingly domestic, I'd like to go. Besides, I think Sarah could use a united front. The Puckermans haven't ever seen much support from two parents at once."

Burt nodded, his eyes on the road. "Parents, huh?"

"I'm not implying anything," she said quickly. "Not about us. It's about the kids."

"That's fine," he agreed. "Red Lobster or the Thai place tonight? I was kind of looking forward to those cheesy biscuits."

"Burt," she protested. "I'm not saying I  _don't_  want that. But right now... it's just about being practical." She sat in her seat, watching him helplessly as he drove. "I'm sorry. Did I just ruin our evening?"

"It's fine," he repeated, his voice firm. "I  _like_  Red Lobster. Do you see me complaining?"

"No, but… I think you have this idea I'm somehow less committed to this relationship. I've been waiting for Finn to be ready. You know he has to be my first priority. Just like Kurt is yours."

The corners of his mouth tightened. "Maybe it's as simple as that for you, but I don't think once Sarah and Puck are with me permanently that it can  _be_  that simple."

"I wouldn't ask you to choose between two kids, Burt. I'm talking about the adults." She dug in her purse until she found a booklet of wallet-sized photos. Flipping to the back, she found one of Finn when he was ten, spraying the lawn with fertilizer with Darren. "I'm guessing you didn't do a lot of dating after Elizabeth passed."

"You know I didn't."

"It's not easy, not when you have a kid. They get attached, and when things don't work out, you have to figure out what to tell them." When Burt stopped at the next light, she passed the photo booklet over to him. He smiled at the picture of young Finn.

"Who's this guy?" he asked, tapping his thumb on Darren's chest.

"That's my biggest mistake." Carole rolled her eyes. "Phyllis at work had fixed me up on a couple awful blind dates. I don't know if I really thought it would work, or if I was just feeling that desperate, but… I answered a personal ad."

Burt glanced over at her. If he was surprised, he was masking it well. "Lots of people do that."

"It was a couple, looking for a threesome."

Now he didn't bother not to look surprised. She waited as he turned into the parking lot and found an empty spot.

"Look," he said, sounding chagrined, "maybe you should just tell me now if there are any more shockers on the horizon."

"You can chalk this one up to bad judgment," she said. "I would say our sons have handled this business of multiple partners with more thoughtfulness and care than Darren ever did."

"Darren? Finn mentioned him, when we were at the ballpark." Burt squinted at the picture. "But he didn't say anything about another woman… wait, did she work at the Pick'N'Save?"

"Yes. Brenda." She sighed, taking the booklet back and stuffing it into her purse. "I wouldn't be surprised if Finn didn't even know what had been going on."

"He said this Darren clown ran away with another woman."

"You could say that. Except they were already together when  _we_  started seeing each other." She gazed at the photo. There were too many regrets there for it to be a good memory. "Finn thought Darren was a rock star, but it turned out he was just an asshole."

Burt reached over and gave her a half-hug. "Everybody makes mistakes, Carole."

"I don't need platitudes. I don't feel bad about how it turned out. Okay, maybe I did a little screaming and crying about it at the time. And throwing milk down the street." She shook her head, smiling. "I'm saying if  _we_  don't work out, it'll be my responsibility to take care of Finn."

"And mine to take care of Sarah, Puck,  _and_  Kurt," said Burt firmly. "But that's not what's going to happen."

"No?" She watched him curiously. "You have some kind of magic 8 ball, Mr. Hummel?"

"Oh, trust me, I'm the first one to admit sometimes things don't work out the way you expect them to. But this, what we have here…" He kissed her gently, then with more emphasis. When he looked her in the eye, she felt a little breathless. "We're going to be fine."

"I'm going to have to take your word for it," said Carole. "Tonight, at least, there are cheesy biscuits."

* * *

On Friday morning, Puck made Jacob Ben-Israel buy Mercedes her favorite coffee drink. When she decided she'd rather talk about something other than video games, he didn't argue with her. The alternative wasn't something he wanted to contemplate. He made a reasonable effort to pay attention in class, because she wanted him to, but it wasn't easy.

In Glee, Britt and Mike danced their  _pas de deux,_  and everyone was impressed. But the real surprise came when Mercedes performed a duet of her own: "The Boy is Mine" with Santana. The song wasn't very nice, but Puck thought that might be kind of appropriate. It sure as hell didn't look like either of them was acting when they were tossing epithets back and forth. Mr. Schue even had to separate them.

"You can go at it in song, but that is it," he warned. "This ends now."

"You're out of time, Wheezy." Santana sneered at Mercedes. "He's not yours to command after today."

While Santana headed for the door, Mercedes hugged Puck, warm and protective.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I should have known better than to think Santana and I could do anything together without making it competitive, especially after she bid your price up at the auction."

He shrugged, enjoying her soft fierceness. "It's fine. You two sounded amazing. And she's right, isn't she? Today's the last day."

Mercedes nodded uncomfortably. "It's been really nice, Puck. A really nice week. And after... you can still come over after school whenever you want."

He was happy to be told what to do. But when she met him outside after the bell and found him tossing Ben-Israel and his cronies into the dumpster, she was obviously appalled.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Just a little payback." Puck gestured for the next of Ben-Israel's followers to come forward. The boy shuffled into position and waited glumly while Xavier and Danny from the football team lifted him into the dumpster. "You hear that? That's the sound of order being restored."

Mercedes' face was stony. "I know you're only mine for another, what, three hours? But no man of mine is going to be pulling stuff like this."

"Babe," he protested. "This is what we  _do._  I mean, look at them. They  _need_  this. Without the fear of a good dumpster toss, there'd be chaos up in this place. Trust me, if anybody knows what they need, it's me — and they sure as hell ain't going to get  _that_  from me. This is the next best thing."

"What do you mean?" she asked uneasily.

"Somebody in charge of them. Giving them the discipline they deserve."

She was clearly horrified. "They didn't  _ask_  for this. Don't tell me Kurt is okay with you treating people like this, Puck. Or Finn. Or  _Max."_

He paused for a moment at the sound of Adam's pseudonym. Had he remembered to call him last night? What about the night before? All he could recall was Carl's visit to him at the apartment, his own words of anxiety, and Lady Tess' soothing voice on the phone, holding him still.

"We're part of the system now," he said, but Mercedes wasn't listening anymore. She shook her head in disgust and walked off, leaving him there in the midst of the line of waiting boys.

Xavier looked at him expectantly. "Keep going, Puck?"

Puck swallowed. For a moment, he tried to pretend he was Kurt, to look at the situation with his eyes. What  _would_  Kurt think of what he was doing? Suddenly it didn't seem as obviously okay as it had a minute ago.

He turned to the next boy in line. "What would you do if I said we're done, go home?"

The next three boys looked suspicious, but the first one spoke up, looking around at the others. "Thank you?"

"Thank you," Puck echoed.

"Thank you,  _sir?"_  the boy tried again.

The word landed on his ears with a sickening impact, worse than any tool. Puck flinched back, trying not to grimace.

"Don't say that," he snapped at the boy. "Not to anybody who doesn't deserve it. You got that?"

The boy nodded in apparent terror, and fled. In moments, the line was gone. Xavier and Danny appeared confused, but at Puck's sharp dismissal, they shrugged, picked up their backpacks, and headed for their cars.

Puck searched the parking lot for Mercedes, calling for her. She turned at the sound of his voice, though she didn't exactly look pleased to see him. That felt worse than anything.

"I'm sorry," he said to her. "It's just… I make stupid choices. I don't always know what's a bad idea, even after I do it. That's what Kurt and Finn help me with."

"And if you don't do what they say, they throw you into dumpsters?" she shot back, her lip curling.

He smiled. "Not exactly. But you were right. I ask for it; Ben-Israel's buddies didn't. It wasn't fair for me to bully them into accepting it, even if they do need it."

"Need  _what?_  Need to be treated like they're —" Mercedes cut her words off, staring at Puck.

"Weak?" Puck suggested. "Powerless? Slaves?"

"I don't know." She looked shaken, and when she reached for him, it felt like he was supporting her as much as she was holding him. "I don't treat  _you_  that way."

"No, you didn't. Maybe you should, though."

She backed up a step, still holding his hand. "Puck, I'm not going to throw you into a dumpster, even if you want me to. Or — anything else like that. I can't do that to you, or anybody."

"Yeah." He nodded, trying not to feel hurt. "I get that. I'm not going to ask you to. But I kind of need it, if I'm not going to turn back into the asshole I was at the beginning of the year. I'm gonna need it even more, now that I'm going to be a papa."

She didn't look like she quite understood, but Puck guessed that was okay. She didn't need all the details. He hugged her again, tighter this time, and she hugged him back.

"Someday," he promised, "you'll have a really nice guy. One who doesn't need… dumpstering."

That got her to smile. "I hope so. One with arms as nice as yours, and who wants me to sing with him."

"And you know I'm totally willing to flex and sing for you." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Right now, though, I think I need to find Finn. We've got a little catching up to do after this week. Can I give you a ride home?"

* * *

Britt helped Kurt find Lauren before she got on the bus to go home. Lauren sighed mightily while he explained what he needed, but she walked with him back to the auditorium and showed him what he needed to do to hook up his iPod to play the karaoke version of "Rose's Turn" over the sound system.

"It's not going to be great," she told Kurt, "but it'll sound good enough for Glee club."

"Thanks," he said. "What do I owe you this time? Considering what you're doing for Sarah in the CAD lab…"

She shook her head. "Yeah, honestly, I'm not sure if you owe me for that or if I owe you. We'll gonna have to settle up at the end of the semester."

"I can give you a ride home," Britt offered. Lauren looked her up and down, then shrugged.

"Why not. Apparently my Good Samaritan status extends to Cheerios now."

Kurt wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but his understanding of Christian parables was pretty limited. Britt held his hand as the three of them made their way back to his locker for his "Rose's Turn" costume.

"Your hands are really soft," she said, smiling.

He smiled back. "My secret? Duck fat."

"Seriously, they feel like a baby. Now I know what it's like to date a baby!"

Lauren eyed them incredulously. "Really?"

"Rule number one," Kurt murmured. "Don't question it."

"Hey, Kurt," he heard, and turned to see his dad heading toward him down the hall. Kurt paused in surprise.

"Dad!"

"Hey," his dad said to Britt and Lauren, nodding. "Finn caught a foul ball in the 9th, which means free hoagies at Lenny's Hoagies, and then half price at the motocross tonight… I promised to take him. You don't have practice today, do you?"

Kurt glanced uncertainly at Lauren, but she seemed unperturbed by the mention of Finn. "No, I have rehearsal for Glee… Dad, this is Lauren? She's the one who was Skyping with Sarah from the lab at school."

"Is that right?" He smiled at Lauren with new appreciation, and offered his hand. "I can't say I've heard a lot about the project, but Sarah's a little private about school."

Lauren shook his hand, considering him. "That's kind of surprising, considering what the project concerns."

His dad's smile faded. "Oh? Which is what?"

"Yeah, sorry," she said, actually sounding apologetic. "You'll have to get it out of her yourself. I don't think I want to be around for that part." She tugged on Brittany's arm. "Will you excuse us for a moment?"

"What?" Brittany asked blankly.

Lauren's hand tightened, and she towed Brittany more firmly in the direction of the parking lot. "Just — go away."

Kurt barely noticed them leaving. His attention was on his dad. "What's going on with Sarah, Dad?"

"I don't know," his dad said. His face was grim now. "But I got a call from her principal. Something else I'll have to address after hoagies."

Kurt moved in closer, dropping his voice. "Did you ever think maybe this was something _she_  might want to do with you?"

His dad's eyes narrowed. "Look, Kurt…"

"Dad, she needs a buddy right now. Wednesday night, I stopped by her room, and she started talking about her dad. I think that's a good thing for her."

"Well, Finn needs a buddy, too." His dad was already moving backward down the hall. "Look, I promise you, we will hang out with Sarah as much as you want, okay? Just not tonight."

It was hard to keep his mind on rehearsal after that. Kurt knew his vocal tone on the high notes was a little strident, but it just felt so good not to be trying to lower his range anymore, he let himself go. Toby's choreography was just challenging enough to feel freeing instead of frightening.

_Everything's coming up Kurt_  
 _Everything's coming up Hummel_  
 _Everything's coming up Kurt, this time for me  
_ _For me!_

The applause afterward caught him off guard. He searched the dark auditorium until he saw his dad, standing twelve rows back in the aisle.

"That was some serious singing, kid," he said.

"That was 'Rose's Turn,'" Kurt said. "Toby suggested it. To go along with the Mellencamp. Because I've got more than four sides to my box."

To his credit, his dad didn't even bother to look confused. He just nodded, approaching the stage. "I could get into that, maybe."

"What happened to the hoagies?"

"Ahh, blew it off. You know. Too much cholesterol." His dad shrugged. "Sarah doesn't really have to worry about that stuff. Thought she could eat mine. Finn understood when I suggested bringing her along instead of me. At least once I told him how bent out of shape you were."

Kurt was startled. "Me? I'm fine."

"Kurt, I'm dumb, but I'm not stupid. And I don't always know what's going on between the three of you — the five of you —" He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. But fine don't sing like you just sung."

"I think I'm the least of your worries," Kurt said stiffly.

"I don't know. Maybe you're right." His dad moved in closer. "Maybe I got carried away, doing stuff with Carole, hoping she might move in with us. I don't think I've been…"

"Been what?"

He sighed. "A very good dad. For any of you, but especially for Sarah."

"Dad," Kurt said, but his dad shook his head.

"It's just — it's not so easy for me to hear you telling me I'm not doing enough for her, you know? I thought she was getting along pretty good since her mom passed, but there's clearly stuff I've missed.  _Four_ kids to take care of, three of whom are sleeping in the same bed, doing — all kinds of things I don't even know about?" His dad grimaced. "I told you, this thing with you was going to be hard."

" _Thing_  with me." Kurt thought of Toby's encouragement, telling him  _draw some attention to yourself. Make some noise._  The words, usually so hidden, so private, especially at school, suddenly rose to the surface. He didn't even attempt to speak quietly as he raised his chin, facing his dad. "You mean the BDSM."

Now his dad was definitely blushing, but to his credit, he didn't look away either. "Yeah. The BDSM. Kurt, I will fight to the death for your right to love whoever you want. But when you were a little baby, did I dream about someday having a houseful of folks tying each other up with ropes and hurting each other? No, I didn't. Not too many fathers do."

Kurt huffed, suddenly on the verge of tears. "I had no idea how disappointing I was."

His dad recoiled. "Aw, come on, now — stop it right now. I'm talking straight to you. Don't go playing the victim. You know that's not what I mean!"

"I know," Kurt said immediately. "I'm sorry. I know you care about me — about all of us. You've been so accepting of us, of our relationship. I know you're working hard on yourself to make all this okay. It's just…" He swallowed. "The way everyone's been in and out of the house… it breaks my heart."

His eyes softened. "Is that why you were upset at me about Sarah?"

"I think it's even harder on her," said Kurt. "I know Noah's struggling, and Finn's doing the best he can to make everything okay…"

"None of you have to work at anything, Kurt." His dad moved in close enough that Kurt could see he was fighting with tears himself. "You and Finn and Puck and Sarah, your job is to be yourselves. And me and Carole, our job is to love you. Every damn side of you. That, and a crummy little bi-level house, that's all we got." He brushed Kurt's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Okay? We stick to that, and we're going to be great. A little crowded, but great."

Kurt gave up on stoicism and hugged his dad. "I miss them."

His dad hugged him back. "Yeah," he said softly. "Me too. You think you've done enough work on this number that I could convince you to join us for hoagies?"

"Us?" Kurt repeated. "As in…"

"As in everybody. You, me, Carole, Finn, Puck and Sarah." He gripped Kurt's shoulders. "How's that for a family, huh?"


End file.
